The Chain
by Maxie Kay
Summary: "You must never break the chain." The past continues to haunt the team in the continuation of Comes A Time as all the secrets and lies are finally revealed. Part VI of my K/D universe. Slightly AU. PLEASE REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

**The Chain**

by Maxie Kay

An NCIS: Los Angeles FanFiction

_Continuing the story that began in __**Comes a Time.  
><strong>__This is part of my K/D Universe that started with __**Personal Questions**__, and it contains themes and references to events in prior instalments.  
>Full details of the series and the reading order can be found on my profile page.<em>

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Never Break The Chain, part I<strong>

Kensi stood staring at the screen, watching the satellite images in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. One minute, the car was racing towards Los Angeles and she was talking Marty on their cell phones, and the next moment there was a deafening noise that felt as if it might just have ruptured her eardrum. As she watched in disbelief, the road in front of the car exploded in a fireball and the vehicle was propelled into the air.

"Marty?" She needed to know he was alright, but there was no answer. "MARTY?" Kensi was aware she was screaming now, watching as the car tumbled over and over, but the only response she got was the static from a severed connection on her phone. Kensi shook her head in disbelief. "That sounded like a rocket-launcher, or a grenade." Only it couldn't have been. She was still trying to come to terms with what she had witnessed, even as Nell and Eric were scrambling the emergency services to the scene. You simply didn't expect to see this sort of thing on a California freeway and it was difficult to comprehend that this was actually real, not some TV show. She couldn't take her eyes off the images on the screen.

"Where the hell is Callen?" Eric was scanning other satellite feeds, trying to locate the motorbike travelling from Los Angeles. "He should be coming up any minute now." On the big screen he could see that car had finally come to a rest and was lying on its roof. The bodywork was badly dented and bashed, the windows were completely shattered and, even worse, there were flames licking at the undercarriage.

"Get out of the car, you bloody idiot," Kensi begged and Eric realised there were tears running down her face. He'd never seen Kensi cry before, not ever. Not even when Dom had died. "Please, Marty. Please. Just get out of the car."

"It'll be alright," Nell said with an authority she did not feel. This looked really bad. Maybe if Callen could get there in time there might just be a chance. She tucked her thumbs into the palms of her hands, folded her fingers over them and held on tightly.

"Callen's coming up now," Eric announced. He swivelled his chair around and watched as the Ducati skidded to a halt and Callen dismounted in a smooth movement and raced over to the car. He was within ten feet when suddenly, without warning, he dropped to his knees onto the tarmac. And then the screen went blank

"Shit." Eric turned back to the bank of keyboards in front of him and frantically began typing. "What the fuck's happening?"

"Bring the image back up," Nell snapped, unclasping her hands and hugging Kensi as hard as she possibly could. "We need visuals now, Eric."

"You think I'm not trying?" The tension and frustration were evident in his voice. "Nope. Not possible. The signal's being blocked. The satellite's still transmitting, but we can't get the signal."

"Unblock it. Or find us another satellite. Just do something."

"One step ahead of you. I'm already trying. Believe me, I'm trying." Eric accessed every source he could think of, trying to find whatever was screwing with the image-stream, but without success. "No go. I can't access it because someone is locking me out deliberately. And there's no other satellite within range for another ten minutes. We've lost them."

"No." Kensi pulled away from Nell's embrace and walked over to the screen, where she stood staring at the static that filled the whole wall. "Don't say that. I can't bear it." She reached out, extended her fingers and gently stroked the glass before laying the flat of her palm on the screen. "We can't have lost them." Her voice was high and thin and she sounded like a little girl. Nell's face crumpled as she watched her just staring at the screen helplessly.

Eric spoke to Nell in an undertone. "We need to get hold of Callen now and find out what the hell is going on down there. And then get him back here asap. If Hetty is dead or injured, then he's next in command. There's procedures to go through, people to contact and I know this is hard, but we've got jobs to do. So pull yourself together, okay?"He patted her awkwardly on the arm. "Ifit's any consolation, they probably never knew what hit them."

Nell sniffed loudly and was surprised when Kensi handed her a white cotton handkerchief. "Marty always said I should be prepared for all eventualities. He gave this to me the first night we were together. I've sort of carried it around ever since." In one corner Nell could see the initials MB embroidered in pale blue silk and she hesitated for a second. "Go on, use it," Kensi urged. "It's just a handkerchief, not a holy relic. Can you imagine Marty carrying a handkerchief around with him? He said that if ever he saw a girl who was crying, he'd give her a handkerchief, along with his card. Nine times out of ten, she called the next day. So take the damned thing, Nell. Because it's only a bloody handkerchief and it doesn't matter."

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><p>Callen and Joe were still about half a mile away when they heard the explosion and saw the plume of dark smoke rising into the sky.<p>

"Bloody bastards. I thought they'd try something like this." Joe growled and then pushed every last ounce of power out of the Ducati, so that the engine seemed to scream with fury. He had barely brought it to a skidding halt when Callen dismounted and started sprinting towards the wreckage.

"Down!" Joe's voice reverberated inside the helmet. "Get down, Callen. Right now." Obediently, Callen sunk to his knees, feeling the heat of the road surface transmit through his jeans. "Take off the helmet and leave it on the ground. Then get Marty and get the hell out of here. No names, no pack drill. We'll be in touch. And take care."

"And Hetty?" Callen asked, fumbling with the strap and pulling off the helmet. The hidden microphone/receiver transmitted one final message.

"I'll take care of her. Now go get Marty."

The flames were starting to take a hold of the undercarriage of the car now, licking towards the fuel tank. Callen left the helmet lying on the road and pelted over, reckoning he had two minutes at the very most before the biggest bonfire the region had ever seen burst into life. There was movement inside the car and as he approached a small, uncharacteristically ruffled figure emerged, crawling out through the window on the driver's side.

"Your help would be appreciated, Mr Callen," Hetty said breathlessly. "I'm afraid Mr Deeks was knocked out in the accident."

"Tell me this wasn't planned?" Callen begged, crawling inside the passenger window and freeing the seat belt. Deeks was splendidly unconscious, completely out of it and absolutely no help at all.

"It certainly wasn't planned by me," Hetty replied tartly. "Don't be so stupid, Mr Callen. Have you ever known me to recklessly endanger the lives of my team?"

"So what the hell is going on here?" he asked, grabbing hold of Deeks and starting to drag him out. A couple of weeks of enforced bed rest meant that his muscles protested vigorously at the abuse he was subjecting them to. "Because it certainly wasn't a co-incidence that Joe and I just happened to be here, was it?" Deeks was lying on the road now, still out for the count, despite the manhandling.

"We've been set up. All of us." Her eyes flashed dangerously. "I'll find out who is behind this, I promise. But you have to get out of here, right now. Pick him up and run like hell." She nodded towards the flames, which were getting rather to close to the gas tank for comfort.

"You're not coming?" Callen yelled incredulously, watching as she trotted over to where he had left the helmet lying in the road. He was beginning to wonder if he'd been knocked out too and was having some kind of hallucination. Bending his knees, he heaved Deeks up and hoisted him over one shoulder, trying desperately not to groan with the effort. "You're not coming?"

"I wish I could." Hetty pulled on the helmet and opened the visor, so he could see her shrewd face looking at him. "Now get out of here." Joe circled the bike around and Hetty stepped nimbly onto the pillion seat. The moment she put her arms around his waist, Joe opened up the Ducati and they set off like a pair of superannuated Hell's Angel, driving on the road to nowhere.

"Run like hell, she says. Hey, that's no problem at all. I mean, it's not like Deeks is over six foot tall and a dead weight to boot. I'll just set a world record for the 100 metre sprint while I'm at it, shall I?" Callen muttered under his breath, concentrating all his energy on moving away from the car as fast as possible under the circumstances. Any minute now and the whole damn thing was going to blow them both to kingdom come if he couldn't put a decent distance between them and what was going to turn into a very large, very lethal shrapnel bomb.

He was panting with the effort and the sun was blaring down, right into his eyes, making it hard to see. "You owe me big time, Deeks. And believe you, I'm going to collect. Even if I have to hold that dog of yours hostage." Callen was very nearly at the side of the road, where a shallow ditch looked like it might offer some minimal protection when the earth seemed to move beneath his feet as the car exploded and the shock-wave sent them both flying.

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><p><em>Okay - it's back by popular demand! Your wish is my command, dear readers. <em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Listen to the wind blow**

_Wow! __Thank you so much to tdolphins27, amblue36, francesmiller, glamourousangel, montydam, melkatt, angie83 and anjelique-anja for reviewing. I'm so glad you like my K/D universe. Your kind words really do inspire me to add another instalment. So – now you all know the easy way to get another chapter added – just hit that review button at the end!_

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><p>Callen landed heavily on the hard-packed, unforgiving ground, which effectively forced all the breath out of his body. It took a few highly undignified moments of wheezing like an asthmatic warthog before he finally got over the feeling that he was never going to be able to fill his lungs with air again. And when he was finally recovered sufficiently to be able to suck some oxygen in, the smell of acrid smoke permeated everything and made him regret breathing so deeply. Rolling over onto his back, Callen lay in the ditch and stared up at the sky in amazement, scarcely able to comprehend that he was still alive and breathing, albeit with some difficulty. He suspected that he'd be black and blue tomorrow. Being thrown into the air and then landing on dirt tended to do that, he'd discovered through bitter experience. But the alternative was a whole lot worse and at least he was still in with a chance of seeing another day.<p>

"I got worried there, for a few moments," he confessed, his breath still coming in gasps. "I almost thought we'd had it. You doing okay over there, Deeks?" There was no answer. "Come on, Deeks – surely that jolted you out of your stupor?" Beginning to get worried now, Callen pulled himself to his feet and staggered over to where Deeks was lying in a prone position, where the force of the blast had sent him flying. "If you're kidding me on, I swear I'll kill you. This isn't funny, Deeks. It's seriously not funny."

Kneeling down, Callen fought down the sensation of panic that threatened to turn his guts to water and rapidly checked the other man out. Deeks was breathing fine, and when Callen peeled back his eyelids both pupil reacted speedily to the bright sunlight. He was just deeply unconscious and showing no sign of coming around anytime soon. And that was a piece of bad news Callen really didn't need right now, given that they were going to have to get away from the freeway and find a place of relative safety. Wherever that might be. All Hetty and Joe had said was that they should get out of here, which didn't give him much to go on. Hoping against hope, he slapped Deeks gently across the face, trying in vain to get some reaction. Deeks just lay immobile and resolutely unresponsive.

"You have to make things difficult, don't you Deeks? Stubborn bastard that you are." Callen complained vociferously, going through the whole complicated process of manoeuvring Deeks into a position that would allow him to attempt another fireman's lift. "Has anyone ever told you that you take this whole business of being accident-prone a bit too far?" he asked rhetorically, and took hold of Deeks' hands, pulled him up into a sitting position and then made a grab to support his head, which was threatening to fall backwards in a disconcerting manner, only to encounter a warm, sticky mess. "Okay – it's beginning to make a bit more sense now." Typically, Deeks had managed to hit his head on a rock when he landed, and the resultant wound was bleeding sluggishly. While not happy about the fact that this was the second head injury Deeks had sustained in the space of less than 10 minutes, there wasn't a whole lot could be done about it right now, other than hoping that this was the only additional injury he'd sustained. And given Deeks' track record of falling victim to various assorted maims, Callen was none too sanguine about that. "I really wouldn't what to know what your health insurance premiums are, buddy. It's a good thing you're a millionaire."

Taking a deep breath, Callen bent his knees and managed to hoist Deeks so that he lay across one shoulder, before slowly straightening up with considerable effort and accompanied by a disturbing series of cracks and creaks as his joints protested at the abuse they were being subjected to before starting to make his way gingerly down the slight slope that led off the freeway. All Callen could think of was that they had to get out of sight quickly, because the smoke was going to act like the Bat-signal, alerting half the county to their position. He'd worry about the rest of this mess later on. Presuming they both lived that long.

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><p>"At last!" Eric crowed jubilantly. "We are back in business, ladies and… okay, just ladies. Ask and you shall receive." Once again, they were able to receive satellite transmissions. He cued the images onto the plasma and then shook his head sadly as the screen showed a scene of devastation, with a burning pyre at the centre and assorted pieces of wreckage littering a wide area. "Wait a minute, where the hell's Callen?" He pulled back the image, accessing a wider view of the area. "He wouldn't just leave the scene like that. Not Callen. Not knowing Hetty and Deeks were trapped in there." And there was no sign of the Ducati either. This really didn't look good at all.<p>

"Helicopter incoming to scene," Nell called out. "And the rescue services report that ground vehicles should be arriving within ten minutes. They've agree to patch us in to their frequencies." She looked up at the screen again in disbelief. "Do you reckon there's any chance – any chance at all?"

"I don't know. But then we don't know what happened, do we? How about you raise Callen on his cell and get a sit rep? Any information we can get would be good, because right now we're shooting in the dark."

"I've already tried, but he's not answering."

"Then try again. I told you before, we've got to get hold of Callen, that's our top priority at the moment." Eric held on very tight to the fraying edges of his temper, well aware that he was flying by the seat of his pants here. Taking authority sat uncomfortably with him, but right at the moment there was no choice: Nell was far too inexperienced and Kensi was clearly in a state of shock. Someone had to step up to the plate, and right now he was the only choice.

"What do you think I've been doing? I've tried it over and over again. I'm not stupid, you know." Nell glared at him. "Give me a little credit, will you?"

"Why don't you hold off with the nagging until this is all over? And in the meantime, try to give me a full report, rather than half the story, alright? I'm trying my best here and I could do with a little support."

Eric was just about at the end of tether and was seriously considering contacting the acting Director, and letting Jethro Gibbs take over control. It would be a relief to hear Gibbs' sarcastic tones telling him whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing, because Eric didn't have a clue and was literally making it up as he went along. Only legend had it that Gibbs had a thing for redheads and seemed to exert a fatal attraction over women, and Eric wasn't quite sure if the team could cope with losing yet another member if Nell fell under his spell and moved to Washington. "Oh crap. I'm sorry, Nell. I'm taking it out on the wrong person. It's not you I'm angry at." He pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I know. It's alright." Nell wiped her eyes again and scrunched the handkerchief up in her hand. "I miss them too."

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><p>Mentally resolving to get back to full fitness as soon as possible, Callen trudged manfully along the path leading to a road that ran roughly parallel to the freeway, before branching of in a westwards direction. It seemed as good a direction as any to take, he reasoned, especially as it afforded some cover in the way of some scrubby brush. Added to which there wasn't a whole lot of choice. He looked up briefly when the distant but still unmistakeable sound of rotor blades shattered the silence and then forced himself to redouble his efforts. They had to get out of the open where they were sitting ducks. With the road lying just yards ahead, he put his head down, Callen summoned up his last ounce of energy and then saw the most beautiful sight ever to grace God's green earth: a van coming along the road towards him and then by some miracle, slowing down to a halt. The side-door swung open as he staggered up.<p>

"Need a ride, pal?" The voice sounded friendly, but at that precise moment Callen would have accepted an offer of help from the devil himself. And this was like manna from heaven. Somebody up there liked him after all.

"Yeah, we could sure take you up on that. My buddy's in a bad way." Pausing only to throw Deeks in bodily with scant regard for his welfare, Callen then flung himself in afterwards. He landed on the floor and instantly relished the cool, dark interior of the vehicle, not least because it got them out of sight and also afforded an escape. As the door was pulled shut, he saw the down-draft from the helicopter was already starting to fan up dust-devils as it began its descent. They were getting away with not a moment to spare. Whoever was watching over them **really** liked them. "Just drive, will you? Anywhere will do – we're not fussy." Hauling himself up into a sitting position, Callen leant back against the far side of the van and pulled Deeks' head onto his outstretched legs. "Next time, just make a bit more of a bloody effort, will you? Or I'll leave you lying there for the coyotes."

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><p><em>An interesting question has been posed to me, namely why do people like maiming Deeks so much? Well, I can only speak for myself, and I think the answer is pretty simple: I indulge in this pass-time because he maims so beautifully. He looks suitable pathetic, it's a great chance to rhapsodise and wax lyrical about his glorious body (seriously – that smooth golden chest? Be still my beating heart) and of course that hair, that fabulous hair. Who wouldn't want to run their fingers tenderly through it as he lies there pouting gently? And beside all that, I like maiming people. Well, fictional people. I manage to restrain my blood-lust in real life. Although there were times during my divorce that I was seriously tempted.<em>

_And now for the good news: I was scheduled to be in court for a 6 day hearing, which was going to seriously curtail any free time I have for writing. But joy upon joy, we settled out of court on Tuesday! So, with a nice clear schedule, I've managed to take some leave tomorrow. The weekend is officially starting early! And that means lots of updates – I hope. But if you want to makesure- please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Listen to the wind blow part II**

_As promised - today's second installment. And I must point out that all maiming is done by the evil plot bunny - I am merely a conduit._

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><p>"Don't tell me Deeks is injured again?" Sam asked, not taking his eyes of the road for a second. It wasn't exactly in the best of condition and he was driving as fast as he possibly dared. "What did he manage to do to himself this time?" The anxious note in his voice belied the words."<p>

"As far as I can make out, someone fired a rocket-launcher right in front of the car, Hetty took evasive action and the car rolled. She was fine, but Deeks was knocked out cold. Probably by the air-bag, I'd guess." Callen felt gently around the rapidly-swelling lump on the back of Deeks' skull and was relieved to see it had stopped bleeding. "I was dragged him out and was lugging him when the car exploded. He's got a huge bump here – must have happened when he landed."

"You dropped him, didn't you?" Sam said accusingly. "Callen, the man had brain surgery not that long ago, he was already out for the count and then you dropped him? On his head? What were you thinking?"

_Kensi's going to kill you when she finds out. You're a dead man, G._

"I was thinking that I'd better get the pair of us out of there before we were peppered with shrapnel, Sam. And don't bother saying anything else, because I feel bad enough already without you laying some guilt trip on me."

_I am so dead. Once Kensi finds out what happened, I am dead._

"Not as bad as he's going to feel," Nate remarked sagely. "Want me to take a look?"

_I wouldn't want to be in Callen's shoes when Kensi finds out. Well, actually, I wouldn't mind that too much. Being hit by Kensi would be kind of cool in a mildly depraved sort of way. As long as I don't whimper too much in a desperate sort of way. And I don't see what Deeks has got that I haven't. Apart from tons of money. He's not that good looking and since I've been working out, I'm pretty confident in the body stakes. My glutes are great, but maybe my pecs could do with a little work._

"Be my guest. By the way, has anyone decided exactly where we're going?" All of a sudden Callen realised that he felt completely exhausted and the thought of a long journey filled him with dread. This van wasn't exactly furnished to the standards expected by _The A-Team_. In truth it was more like something the Z-Team would have rejected. Already he could feel his butt going numb.

Nate grabbed a bag and sat down on the floor beside him. "We've not thought that far ahead. Our first priority was getting here. Everything else is pretty fluid." He carefully turned Deeks' head to one side and probed the wound carefully. "He's going to have one heck of headache when he wakes up. How long did you say he's been unconscious for?"

"Over thirty minutes. That's not good, is it?"

"It could be worse." Nate had slipped into professional mode and trotted out the pat phrase without thinking. "Okay, help me get his jacket off and we'll see if we can persuade him to wake up for us."

"You almost sound like a real doctor there, instead of a shrink."

"You want me to use a blunt needle next time I have to sew you up, Sam?"

"San Diego," Callen said suddenly. "It's too risky to go to LA, and Nico's still got that suite at the Coronado. We can go there. Okay, Sam?"

"Fair enough. I'll get us back onto the San Diego Freeway."

"Take this, will you?" Nate handed across a battered manila folder he'd discovered buttoned inside Deeks jacket for reasons known only to the man himself. "Come on, Marty. Time to wake up." He rubbed his knuckles into Deeks' sternum.

_Okay, I was wrong. He's got great pecs. And just look at that six-pack. Time to hit the gym with a vengeance, Nathaniel._

The action prompted an immediate response, as Deeks screwed his face up and tried to move away from the source of the pain. "Come on. Open your eyes," Nate said patiently, repeating the action, slightly more vigorously this time.

"Aww, Kensi… stop it. That hurts."

"It's not Kensi. It's Nate."

"Nate?" Deeks struggled to open his eyes. "What the…I'm not at home, am I?" He stared up at Callen accusingly.

"Well spotted." Callen patted him lightly on the shoulder. "How're you feeling?"

"Like they dropped the bomb." Deeks shut his eyes again. "On my head. Just let me die quietly, will you?" His face was a peculiar shade of greenish-white and he breathed deeply for several minutes before he spoke again. "Okay - how much did I have to drink last night?"

"It's a long story, buddy. You just rest now and we'll fill in the gaps later, okay?"

"Okay. But Kensi's going to kill me."

Sam turned round briefly. "Don't worry about that – she'll be too busy tearing Callen limb from limb for letting this happen to you." He flashed his partner a broad grin.

"What am I – his keeper?" And then it struck Callen – he'd have to phone Kensi and explain this to her. He could imagine her reaction and it wasn't a pretty thought. Still, there was no point in putting off the inevitable. And maybe she'd have calmed down by the time they met up again. Dumping file on the floor he dug his cell phone out of his pocket and then stared at it ruefully. "This is an ex-phone. It is no more. It has ceased to be."

"Enough with the _Monty Python_ impersonations, Callen. You're showing your age and confusing Nate. And it's only been six months. You know the agreement." Shortly after being paired with Callen, Sam had insisted on a pact, whereby his partner was allowed one day each year to give full rein to his extensive repertoire of classic comedy sketch moments. Callen had initially been reluctant to agree, but after Sam had sat on his chest for ten minutes, he'd eventually conceded. But even Sam had to admit that for guy with short legs Callen's version of the Ministry of Silly Walks was damned hilarious.

"Basically, it's dead. I must have landed on it after the explosion."

"Explosion? We were blown up?" Deeks grimaced. "No wonder I don't remember anything."

Callen looked at his phone ruefully and thought of all the movies he taken of Nico and never quite got around to downloading. "No, you were already unconscious after the car crash."

Deeks raised his head and immediately regretted it, as it felt as if a herd of elephants were practising tap-dancing inside his skull. "You've kidnapped me and taken me on the bachelor weekend from hell, haven't you? I knew I shouldn't have let you watch _The Hangover_."

"It's way worse than that," Callen assured him. "Put it this way - you were probably better off unconscious."

"Oh God. Kensi's going to kill me."

_And the way I'm feeling right now, I might just let her._

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><p><em>Poor Nate! I do think he probably has a thing for Kensi - but he is just SO not her type. <em>


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Listen to the wind blow part III**

_In my defence, I would like to point out that technically Deeks was knocked out in Comes A Time. So unless you count being flung by the explosion (which I don't), then technically he hasn't actually been maimed in this story at all. However, it is still early days… and as I have pointed out before, he does maim beautifully._

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><p>Deeks eyed Nate's bag hopefully. "Any good pain-pills in there? Something with codeine in it, perhaps? Because my head is really thumping and the rest of me is starting to ache in sympathy."<p>

"That's the worst possible thing for someone with a concussion and mild memory-loss," Nate informed him. You're just going to have to ride it out."

"Thanks for all the sympathy. And I don't have a concussion. I just banged my head a couple of times. It's no big deal." Deeks closed his eyes and swallowed convulsively two or three times in quick succession.

"Don't even think about throwing up," Callen warned him. He remembered Kensi telling him that Deeks would whimper on pathetically about a minor paper-cut, but never admit when he was really feeling ill and immediately felt guilty. "But if you really need to vomit, shout out and Sam will pull over." After all, it was still a good hour till they reached San Diego and there was no sense in making their travelling conditions any more uncomfortable than they already were.

"Correction – Sam will attempt to pull over. I'd quite like to get us to San Diego in one piece and doing sudden lane switches at 80 miles an hour isn't the best idea." He looked back at Deeks, who had gone a peculiar shade again. "There's a bottle of water back there, G – give him something to drink before he passes out again."

"Why are we going to San Diego? You hate San Diego, Callen." Deeks suddenly realised how thirsty he was and grabbed the water bottle with both hands.

"Because we thought it would be cool to go to Sea World," Callen replied, helping him to raise his head up.

Deeks gave him a blank look. "Okay. Can we leave it till tomorrow though? I went there when I was a kid. Not been back for years. The manatees were my favourites…" He closed his eyes and his voice trailed off. Callen made a grab for the bottle of water and caught it just before it spilt its contents everywhere.

"He's really out of it," Sam said. "That was cruelty to dumb animals, Callen. And now he's going to pester us until we actually go there and sit ringside at the Shamu show. You are sure he's going to be okay, Nate?"

"As sure as I can be without checking him into a hospital for an MRI. Do you fancy our chances if we do that?"

"Not particularly."

"He'll be fine," Callen said, with a breezy assurance he didn't feel. "Deeks has got a hard head. He's got to, in order to cope with Kensi. And anyway, he's got all that hair to cushion the blows with." His legs were going numb and he shifted them slightly, smiling despite himself as Deeks frowned momentarily at the disruption. "The minute we get to San Diego, we're getting a burn phone and calling LA. It's too risky to use any of our own equipment right now. God knows what they're thinking."

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><p>Eric leaned back in his chair and stared wearily up at the ceiling. "No GPS signal from any of their phones," he announced. "They're either dead or they've been switched off. It doesn't make any sense. I can understand that Hetty and Deeks might not be in any shape to get in contact, but what's up with Callen and Joe? Callen knows protocol better than anyone. Why hasn't he got in touch?"<p>

There was only one possible answer to that question, and they all knew it. But no-one was about to admit that maybe they were all dead, or being held by party or parties unknown.

"Think about it," Nell urged, and took another large mouthful of coffee. For some-one who had previously abhorred anything with an artificial stimulus, the past few months working at NCIS has transformed her into a caffeine addict. "There's only one thing that could possible make any sense – they've deliberately gone off-grid. That's why we haven't heard anything – and why the emergency services didn't find any bodies in the wreckage. And when you factor in that Sam and Nate have also gone silent." She stopped and checked to make sure her line of thought wasn't too off the wall.

"They're all together, aren't they?" Kensi looked up and for the first time since the accident there was a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes. "You mean they might still be alive? Really?"

Nell didn't want to give her false hope. "Kensi – anything could have happened. We just don't know and there are too many variables to begin to work out conclusively what's happened or who is behind it. We just don't have enough solid information. They could have been taken or…"

"We would have heard. Someone would have been in touch." Kensi was on her feet now, prowling around the room. "Hetty's an important figure, Marty's a damned millionaire and a major stockholder of a Fortune 500 company, for crying out loud– we would have heard if they were being held for ransom."

"So they're probably alive," Eric conceded. "But where are they, and why haven't they got in touch?"

Kensi whirled around. "We've just got to be patient. We'll hear from them. I know we will." Her eyes were shining, as if she had just found a reason to keep living and she almost danced across the room, interrupted only by the ringing of her cell phone.

"Marty?"

"Sorry honey, it's only me. I'm downstairs with coffee and muffins for the troops. You want to come down? This cute agent won't let me up. He seems to think I'm a security risk."

"I'll be with you in a moment." Kensi ended the call and looked at Eric in horror. "That was Nico. She's downstairs – and I don't think she knows anything. What on earth am I going to say to her?"

"Say nothing," Nell urged. "You're still officially on sick-leave – you don't know anything. Just stick to that line and you'll be fine."

"And when she asks me about Callen – which she will, I can guarantee that - what do I say then? You know Nico – she not going to be fobbed off with some half-baked story. If she thinks something has happened to him, she's going to go ballistic."

"Then make sure you tell her a damned good story," Eric said decisively. "So far there's been a total media black-out on the explosion, which is bad on the one hand, because it shows there are very powerful people who have their own reasons for keeping this hidden.

Nell took up his chain of thought seamlessly. "But it's good, because only we know there is something deeper going on. And we're going to keep it that way. Until we know which way the wind is blowing, the fewer people who know, the better."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Watch the sun rise**

"You do know that technically Hetty is missing?" Kensi pointed out. "And that we should be informing Gibbs **officially**?"

"Go right ahead," Eric offered. "Just remember – you could be placing all their lives in danger. Including Deeks'. But if that's what'll make you happy, then that's what you should do." He raised his eyebrows enquiringly at her.

Kensi was beginning to feel like Eric and Nell were taking over. "I'm on sick leave, remember? Officially, I'm not even here. And neither are you. So, when this whole thing goes belly-up and they're looking for a sacrificial ferret, it's going to be Nell carrying the can." She glared at him, challenging him to disagree.

"I could lose my job over this, couldn't I?" Nell was even paler than normal, and she wrapped her arms protectively around herself.

Eric fired a furious glare at Kensi. Fair enough,she'd been to hell and back over the past few hours, but there was no need to treat Nell like this. She'd gone out of her way to try to help. "You're too good to lose, Nell. Don't worry. Everything will be fine. Hetty will turn up, bringing the rest of the team with her like Mary and her little lambs. We're probably panicking over nothing."

"Eric, you're a sweet guy but you really are a lousy liar. Thanks for trying to make me feel better, though." Nell stuck her chin in the air in a defiant gesture. "Someone had to hold the fort, didn't they?"

"And you've done a great job," Kensi said consolingly, already feeling slightly guilty. Nell had been so supportive of her when she'd thought Marty was dead. Why did she have to open her mouth and be so needlessly cruel? Even if it was the truth – there were better ways of saying these things. "Give me ten minutes with Nico and then come down for some coffee, alright?" She knew Nell's weakness and was pleased to see a slight smile flit across her face. "You do know we'll all stand together, right?" Nell nodded.

"United we stand, divided we fall." Eric wasn't sure if that was an entirely positive thing, or if it was some sort of omen.

Nico was standing at the foot of the stairs looking uncharacteristically nervous. "You took your time!"

"I didn't know you were on such a tight schedule. Oww!" Kensi couldn't help letting out a yelp as Nico's fingernails dug painfully into her arm. "What did you do that for?"

"Shut up, Kensi, or I'll ruin the manicure on my other hand. We're going on a road trip. Just you, me and Bobby. Sort of like _Thelma and Louise_, only with a fur-bag that farts instead of Brad Pitt. And hopefully a happy ending." She shook her head sorrowfully at the expression on her friend's face. "Kensi, just because I'm not an NCIS agent and I play the piano for a living, that doesn't mean I'm stupid. I knew something was up, the way Mikey dumped you here where you'd be safe, and then when Callen and Joe did their "born to ride" impersonation, that kind of confirmed things."

"You know where they are?" Kensi managed to keep her voice low. "Have they got in touch? Where are they? Are they alright?"

"Yes, yes, can't say and yes, again." Nico rolled her eyes in mock horror. "Just play it cool, okay? I'll tell you when we get going."

Kensi felt a chill run right down the back of her neck as they walked to the door. "You think something's up, don't you?"

"I was just told to get you and keep my mouth shut. And yours." Nico shrugged. "I figure I'll find out the rest later on. Or maybe not. I kind of get that there's a whole lot of things I can't be told."

"Doesn't it bother you?" Kensi asked curiously. "The not-knowing and the whole not being allowed to know business, I mean?"

"Actually honey, it's really not that interesting to me. Sorry, but that's the truth. I get that it's your gig, and Mikey's and Callen's, but it's not mine. We've got our own worlds and mine's not that fascinating to you, is it?"

"You've got ice in your veins, haven't you? Nerves of steel. Such a hard-boiled dame."

"You didn't buy that act?" She looked almost comically disappointed.

"Not for a second. You want to wring Callen's neck for putting you through this, don't you?"

Nico laughed, but her eyes were dark. "After I've hugged him and made sure he's in one piece. You know the feeling?"

"Only too well. They're okay then?"

"Callen sounded worried. Just told me things had blown up on him and he and Mikey had managed to hook up with Sam and some other guy –Nate? And to grab some gear, get you and get on the road. And not to say anything to anyone. He was real insistent about that. So, I just did like I was told. For once."

"What about Hetty? She was driving the car and then we saw it being blown up."

Nico tried to hide her shock. "He didn't say anything about Hetty. Nothing. I'd remember that. You watched the car blow up?" It didn't make sense – there had been nothing about that on the news. And a car exploding on the freeway was big news.

"I thought I was watching Marty die. I was sure he was dead. The car exploded. I saw it burning and I thought I'd lost him, Nico." Kensi tried to keep her voice steady, but the emotions were still too raw for her to be successful.

"He's got nine lives, sweetheart." Nico grabbed hold of Kensi's hand and swung it as they walked towards the car. "You can't get rid of him that easily. And Hetty probably wears armour-plated knickers. So – are ready to hit the road and rock?" She pointed to her car.

With a shock, Kensi realised that the whole day had somehow passed and it was pitch black. Bobby was standing in the driver's seat, his paws on the steering wheel and wagging his tail furiously. "Is it really a good idea to take him?" The dog cocked his head towards her and gave her an appealing look.

"I didn't have a choice – there's no sign of Joe and Caroline's away for the weekend. Unless you want me to go alone and you can go back and puppy-sit in Malibu?" Nico picked up the dog and deposited him in the back seat.

"Yeah, right." Kensi opened the passenger door. "So, exactly where are we going to?"

"Would you believe San Diego?"

"Actually, it kind of makes sense, in a screwball sort of way. I mean, it's the last place anyone would look for Callen. He hates it."

A singularly smug smile crept across Nico's face as she drove the BMW convertible out of the parking lot. "Don't be so sure about that. We've had a few weekend breaks down there and I reckon he's really quite partial to the place now. We made some sweet new memories and banished the bad ones." She gunned the engine. "So – are you ready to drive into the dawn and meet our men?"

_Either she doesn't have a clue how dangerous this is, or she really doesn't care,_ Kensi thought. The night air was soft and refreshing and she leant back in the seat and watched the city fade away into a blur. Within ten minutes, she was sound asleep.

* * *

><p>The suite at the Coronado had a view to die for, with panoramic views from the balconies. Nico stood behind Callen and wrapped her arms around him, staring sightlessly out at the view. "She thought he was dead, you know. Kensi thought she'd watched Mikey die." She buried her head in his shoulder. "Don't ever do that to me, Callen. Please."<p>

He turned around and folded her into an embrace. "Never. I'll never do that to you. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep. Just take care of yourself and come back to me."

"I'll do anything for you." Callen suddenly realised that he meant it. For the first time, he knew what he'd been searching for all these years, knew that he held his future within his arms. "It's going to be alright, you know. We'll get this whole mess sorted out and then you and I…"

"Don't." Nico placed her finger across his lips. "Don't say that. You're tempting fate."

"And you're tempting me." He bit the tip of her finger gently. "Why did I have to be such a nice guy and let Deeks have the bedroom last night? I bet he's still asleep and Kensi's just sitting there watching him."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Watch the sun rise part II**

_First instalment of the day – hope to put up some more later on._

* * *

><p>"And you're tempting me." He bit the tip of her finger gently. "Why did I have to be such a nice guy and let Deeks have the bedroom last night? I bet he's still asleep and Kensi's just sitting there watching him."<p>

"Kind of a waste of that huge, great bed, isn't it?" Nico said wryly, thinking of the much better use she and Callen could make of it. "But she seemed happy enough." She moved in a little closer, marvelling at how well their bodies fitted together and despite everything, thought that there was nowhere else she would rather be.

In actual fact, Kensi was becoming bored. It was all very well watching your lover sleep for a few minutes, during which all sorts of pleasant daydreams could flit across the recesses of your mind. Like pouring a mixture of honey and maple syrup all over his golden-toned body and then licking it all off again, very, very slowly. But after about half an hour or so, Kensi found that even the best, most vivid and detailed fantasies began to pall and it rapidly became downright boring just sitting here on the bed, legs folded underneath her, watching Marty sleep, no matter how gorgeous he looked with only a thin cotton sheet covering his body. Marty was remarkably good at sleeping soundly, she realised, scarcely moving at all and lying with his face half-buried in the pillows. Eventually, Kensi lost patience and bounced gently up and down a couple of times to see if that would provoke a reaction, and when it didn't she resorted to a more subtle method.

"Don't do that, Nate," he said sleepily, not bothering to open his eyes.

"It's not Nate. It's Kensi."

Marty's eyes flew open and he rolled over to stare at her, eyes round with surprise and his hair messed and rumpled. "Kensi? But I thought we were going to San Diego?" he said in wholly confused tones. After a couple of seconds, he realised he wasn't in his own bed, but in unfamiliarsurrounding. "Okay = you want to tell me where I am and what's going on?"

"You're in San Diego. So am I." Kensi tilted her head to one side. "And exactly why did you think Nate would be stroking your bare ass?" Not that she could blame him – Marty had an incredibly good ass – tight and toned, while Nate's was somewhat less than impressive.

Struggling to sit up, Marty wondered if there was a bone or muscle in his body that wasn't hurting. "Because last time I woke up, Nate was there." It kind of made sense, in a dopey sort of way, although the thought of Nate caressing him intimately made Marty feel suddenly queasy. He looked at her, seeing the dark circles under her eyes, the tense expression on her face and felt uneasy. "You look like hell."

"I feel like I've been to hell," Kensi confessed. "And you look particularly crappy yourself."

Letting his aching body fall back against the pillows, Marty let his eyes slip closed. "I've been better. I'll be fine once this headache goes. A hot shower and a gallon of coffee and I'll be fine."

_And a handful of pain-pills and somebody filling me in on everything's that been going on wouldn't hurt either._

"I can think of something else that might help." Kensi unwound her legs from the Indian position she'd adopted and moved up the bed. "Take some of that tension away." She lay alongside him, stretching the length of her body against his, feeling the familiar way his arms automatically slid around her waist, loving the way his early morning kisses felt: deep and soft and with the flavour of so much more to come. She lay with her head on his chest and it hit her, as hard as if someone had physically punched her in the stomach: Marty could have died. And then she would never have these feelings of absolute security and perfection ever again and there would be nothing left living for.

"Kensi?" Marty could feel the way her breathing had changed, the way her arms tightened convulsively around him. And then her scalding hot tears trickled onto his bare chest. "Kensi – what's wrong?"

"I thought you were dead," she sobbed. "And I just had to stand there and watch and I couldn't do a damned thing about it."

"But I'm here," he soothed, stroking her hair. "I'm right here and I'm fine."

_Apart from a thumping headache and the feeling that I'm missing something important. Why the hell can't I remember what's happened?_

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Marty. And I thought I'd lost you." Kensi raised her tear streaked face and kissed him passionately. "And it was like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. I don't want to go living without you."

"Everything's fine. Nothing bad happened." He looked around the suite, bathed in the warm, tender light of dawn. Lying here in this enormous bed, surrounded by luxury and with the woman he loved in his arms, lying looking out onto the pure beauty of the new day, with its infinite promise of things to come, it was very hard to believe that the outside world could touch them. They were golden, weren't they? So why did these things keep on happening and threaten to pull them apart? "Nothing's going to happen," he vowed.

A thump on the door aroused them from their reverie. "Coffee's served. And if you guys want some, you'd better get out here." Callen knew there was one sure-fire way of getting Deeks' attention.

Gently disentangling Kensi from his arms, Marty sat up carefully and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I think there are a few things I want to talk to our fearless team-leader about. Starting with what happened after I left home yesterday morning and just why he's dragged me down to San Diego to go to Sea World."

Kensi recoiled in shock as he stood up and walked across the room. "What the hell happened to your ass? And why are you talking about going to Sea World when someone tried to kill you and Hetty's missing?"

"Hetty's missing?" Even in his currently confused state Marty knew this was bad. "Someone tried to kill me?" His brain seemed to be working at half-speed and it was incredibly frustrating. "Callen's got some rather large blanks to fill in and a whole lot of explaining to do. Just about all I can remember about yesterday is leaving Malibu with you and Nell, and then the next thing I know I'm lying on the floor of this van and Callen is telling me we're going to San Diego to visit Sea World. It actually seemed to make sense at the time." He gave her a perplexed look. "And what's wrong with my butt? You always said you really liked it."

"Take a look in the mirror," Kensi advised, trying not to wince as she surveyed the evidence.

The resultant roar could be heard quite clearly in the rest of the suite. "CALLEN! What the hell did you do to me?"

Sam tried to repress a smirk, but with little success. "Looks like Deeks found out you dropped him. But look on the bright side: at least we know his lungs are okay."

* * *

><p><em>Thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing, and also for all the author and story alerts.<em>


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Run in the shadow**

**A chapter of two very distinct halves… with a sting in the tail at the end! Devious plot bunny has hopped back into the game.**

* * *

><p>"You have everything?"<p>

Hetty nodded. "It's been a habit, always to be ready. I knew this day would come. The arrangements were put in place a long time ago." She looked at him and smiled. "Don't worry. I really don't mind. I always knew it would come to this. In some ways, it's a relief that it's finally come to this. The waiting can be terribly wearing. Perhaps I should have done this a long time ago?"

_Maybe if I had acted sooner, things would have been different? Why did I wait until I was old and those I love were placed in danger?_

Joe shook his head. "You had to let the game play out. Remember – you did what seemed best at the time. Your motives were pure – you had no choice."

"We always have a choice. Don't ever kid yourself that we don't." Hetty picked up a small hold-all and took a last look around her home. "It's funny how attached one can get to personal possessions, isn't it? When, in the scheme of things, they really don't matter at all. Just look at this place – crowded with the detritus of four continents. So much clutter. The idea of just walking away from all this is really rather refreshing."

"It's a treasure trove, like something out of Edwardian England. Don't try the false modesty on me, Hetty. Your house is magnificent – just like you."

"Thank you." Two words, but filled with the significance only Hetty could imbue them with. "Thank you for everything. You were the only person I knew I knew I could trust implicitly, Joe."

_That it should come to this, when the only person I know I can trust is an ex-operative from a foreign power. What is happening to this country?_

"We were once part of the same chain, Hetty. The links were forged a long time ago and they still hold true."

"Never break the chain." Hetty looked steadily into his eyes, and Joe could remember seeing the same look when they had watched the body of a young priest dragged from the Vistula reservoir nearly 30 years before.

"Never."

They walked out of the house together, side by side and the years seemed to slip away so that once again they were young and strong and in the prime of life, playing the most dangerous game of their careers. Hetty turned the key in the lock and handed it to Joe. "Just in case."

"You'll be back. Remember we used to say you were indestructible, just like Captain Scarlet?" he joked.

"Maybe." Despite all her brave words, that final act of turning the key on her former life had been very hard – mich harder than she anticipated. It made everything seem so final; it was almost as if she was admitting that there was no hope left. And yet, despite everything, she still had a faint glimmer of hope. "It would be nice to think I could return. Not least because I have some explaining to do."

_I need to atone for my sins. Andit has been so long since I dared to go inside a church. I wonder what the priest would say if I said "Forgive me, Father, for it has been 27 years since my last confession and I am responsible for more deaths than I can ever hope to remember?" Would he shrive me of my sins, because I was acting on behalf of my country? Will God judge me differently because of that? And now I am the woman who orders other people to kill, but that does not begin to absolve me of the sin._

Joe shook his head. "Never explain, never apologise. Leave that to the people who started all this - or the people who brought it all back to life."

"You're probably right. You usually were in the past, I seem to recall." Hetty watched as he strapped her bag onto the Ducati's carrier. "Take care of them for me?"

"I always have. No regrets Hetty – remember that."

It had always been one of her favourite songs and as she sped down the drive, Hetty could almost hear the ghost of Edith Piaf singing in her ears.

* * *

><p>"Would someone like to tell me what the hell has been going on?" Deeks demanded, storming into the room, still fastening his jeans. "And why my butt's covered in bruises?"<p>

"Don't shout, you'll just make your headache worse," Nate murmured. "People with concussions are supposed to take things easy."

"I've not got a concussion!"

Kensi took hold of his arm. "Calm down, Marty. You just said you couldn't remember much of what happened yesterday. So you might have a concussion, okay?" She fixed Nate with an accusing stare. "So - tell me about it, Nate. Exactly why do you think he's got a concussion?"

Busying himself pouring out coffee, Nate tried to remove himself from being the source of her anger, even though he found himself incredibly turned on by the fire in her eyes. "That contusion on the back of his head was my first clue. Along with the fact he was unconscious when we picked him up. Add the memory-loss into the mix and if you want to come to a different diagnosis, then be my guest." His hands were trembling and some of the coffee slopped over into the saucer.

_God, she's gorgeous when she's angry. I wish I could inspire that sort of raw fury in Kensi. Because the first cousin of that emotion is passion. I'd give anything to arouse her passion. I bet if Deeks hadn't shown up I would have been in with a chance._

"He hit his head because Callen dropped him," Sam added, less than helpfully.

Wary of becoming the focus of Kensi's ire, Callen held up his hands in self-defence. "I was rescuing him, Kensi! Carrying him bodily away from the burning car before it exploded." He dropped his hands down to the level of groin, just in case.

"And then he dropped him." Sam was enjoying himself hugely.

"Thanks. I think." Running his hands through his hair and trying not to wince when he encountered the painfully raised lump on the back of his head, Deeks gratefully took the coffee offered by Nate and took a restoring gulp.

"On his head and on his butt." Sam felt he should amplify things for the sake of clarity and also because it was just so damned funny to wind G up.

"You can really go off people," Callen warned his partner. "Quite suddenly. Like when they deliberately misinterpret a selfless act of heroism. I saved my wounded colleague from burning to death and all I get is grief." Still not trusting Kensi, he cupped his hands in front of himself protectively.

"My hero," Kensi said briefly and with somewhat less than total sincerity. "Remind me never to let you carry my first-born. But you still shouldn't have dropped him."

"Shouldn't that be _**our**_ first-born?" Deeks asked her curiously.

"I'll get Denise to buy you tiny little crash-helmet with rabbit decals for the baby shower," Sam offered. "Keep the baby safe from clumsy Uncle Callen."

Callen just stood and looked at them, an expression disbelief and horror creeping across his face. "Oh God. That's all we need. As if things weren't bad enough already. Please don't tell me that on top of everything else you're pregnant?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: Run in the shadows part II**

Kensi gave him a long-suffering look. "Which part of the whole stabbing/abdominal surgery nightmare slipped your mind, Callen? Are you quite sure you didn't bang your head too? How in the hell could I possibly be pregnant right now?"

_I know Marty calls me Wonder Woman, but even so…_

He had the grace to look abashed. "You gave me a hell of a shock, Kensi. And put on top of the last twenty four hours, I just kind of lost it."

"I think a little Densi baby would be cute," Sam mused. "As long as it got Kensi's hair."

Kensi didn't even favour that remark with a comeback, mainly because her head was whirling with wild, uncontrollable thoughts. _Oh flip, and now despite everything, I can't help thinking about what that would be like – to have a baby with Marty. To have __**our**__ baby._

"Very funny." The coffee was beginning to work, and Deeks felt marginally more awake. "So, who's going to fill in the blanks for me? Because I'm guessing that the whole Sea World trip was just Callen's idea of a joke. Winding up the poor guy with concussion and a bruised butt. Both caused when being dropped by the self-same Callen. And I don't even get to go see Shamu."

_Where does Sam get off with calling us Densi? That could be a cool name for a kid though – he'd be bound to be a great surfer with a name like that. Either that, or a rock star. Densi Deeks. Or Densi Brandel. No, it goes better with Deeks. We could call him DD for sort._

"Give me a break, Deeks," Callen said, but without any real malice.

"I told you he'd want to go to Sea World," Sam reminded him, aware that he needed this downtime, the release that the silly jokes provided. He'd been under more stress than the rest of the team, due to his risky undercover assignment at Camp Pendleton. Three days of waiting to either be unmasked as an agent or, which was possibly worse, pegged as someone trying to dodge deployment by bucking for a dishonourable discharge and getting the crap beaten out of him were not exactly condusive to a stress-free life. He reckoned he'd earned his levity. "And a promise is a promise."

"Alright. When we've sorted out this whole mess, I'll pay for their damn honeymoon at Sea World if it makes you happy, Sam. Satisfied? Now, can we just stop messing around and concentrate on the important matters – like who tried to kill Hetty and Deeks and where the hell Hetty is right now?" He turned to look at Deeks. "She must have said something to you, in the car?"

"She probably did. I just can't remember." Deeks looked longingly at the empty coffee pot. "I can't remember anything after I left Malibu in the morning." He sat down, bowed his head and ran his hands despairingly through his hair. "Why can't I remember? I know it's important – but there's just this huge void where there should be memories."

Callen sighed. It looked like it was going to be a long morning and they were going to need a lot more coffee before they could even begin to put all the pieces together. He didn't notice Nate slipping quietly out of the suite, suddenly aware that he'd left the manila folder lying on the floor of the van. There had to be some reason that it had been stuffed inside Deeks' jacket and it just might throw some light on this whole affair. Last night, they'd been so concerned about getting into the hotel with the least possible fuss, which wasn't exactly easy, given the fact that Deeks could barely put one foot ahead of the other. In the end, Sam and Nate each grabbed an arm and almost frog-marched him into the lift, while Callen charmed the concierge. Holding his breath, Nate pulled the door open and peered anxiously inside in the can, just hoping the folder was still there.

By the time he got back upstairs, the rest of the team had filled in the missing blanks for Deeks, but they were clearly no further forward in working out what was going on, judging by the looks on their faces. However, on the bright side, someone had had the presence of mind to call room service and get coffee and a variety of pastries sent up.

"This might shed some light on things," Nate announced, waving the folder in the air triumphantly. "Recognise it, anyone?" God, it felt so good to be the guy coming up with the goods.

_Why do I have this sudden need for validation? I've been in the field before, I've even run operations. I'm as good as any man – or woman – here. So why do I feel so helpless?_

Deeks leapt to his feet. "Hetty's folder. When she met Georg, she gave it to me to hold. Said it might be a useful insurance policy. Last time I saw it, I'd put it on the back seat of the car." With a jolt, he realised that he could remember small details with perfect clarity, although the wider picture was still out of focus. Still, any progress was good news. Having almost 12 hours wiped from your conscious memory was kind of freaky. He looked as Nate curiously. "Exactly how did you get it?"

"Someone wanted us to have it. Or rather, they wanted you to have it. It was put inside your jacket before I pulled you bodily out of the car." Callen started to flick through the file contents.

_Hetty. It had to have been Hetty who put it there. And she had to have a very good reason. Hetty never does anything without a reason._

Deeks flexed his right shoulder. "Apart from saving me from ending up like a chargrilled-chicken back there, I think you also sorted my arm out for me. Double-whammy for you there, Callen." He looked over his shoulder at the papers. "Is there anything useful in there?"

_Given the fuss Hetty made about that folder, there has to be something. She kept talking about the past, about my past and about Callen's past. And Georg seemed to know about us too._

A frown crept across Callen's face. "I can't tell. Everything is either in code, or in a foreign language. It looks like one of the Slavic tongues, but I can't be sure." He smacked the file down on the table in frustration. "I can speak enough to get by in most of them, but this is beyond me, other than picking out the occasional word."

_Could things get any worse? This whole case is like some convoluted nightmare. _

"I know a man who can help." They turned to look at Nico, sitting by the window and somehow managing to look as elegant as ever despite the circumstances. "George? Eric's partner George? He's a linguist, remember?" She looked at the bemused faces and suddenly realised the huge error she'd made. "Can we rewind and I'll rephrase that?"

"Eric's partner? As in Eric's gay?" Kensi couldn't believe what she was hearing, having always secretly thought that Eric had a crush on her.

"He's a linguist and we need help translating that file. If he's with Eric that means we can trust him," Sam said bluntly. "That's all that matters. The rest is their business."

"I'll call Nell and get her to set up a meet." Callen had bought several burn phones the previous evening, careful to purchase them at different shops. Each one would be used only once and then discarded. Perhaps he was being a little too cautious, but there was something about this whole affair that made him smell a very large rat. And Callen had been bitten too many times in the past.

"Nell? We need to meet."

But the voice at the other end of the phone definitely wasn't Nell. All his precautions hadn't been enough. "Agent Callen – I thought it would be you. I'm glad you didn't disappoint me. Seeing you're well enough to travel to San Diego, I'll expect you and the rest of the team to report back in by 2pm at the latest. Understood?"

"Message received. We'll be there." Callen's face was ashen when he ended the call. "Shit. That was Vance. He's back."

Things had just got a whole lot worse. Just like he'd suspected they would.

* * *

><p><em>I would have loved to take them all to Sea World, but sadly devious plot bunny said "no". But how cool would that have been? Maybe I can work it into another story - a dead marine found floating with the manatees maybe?<em>


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: Damn your love**

_Here's to the weekend – for everyone who works too hard during the week, for all the writers out there, including phillydi, who struggle to find the time to put their thoughts down – here's to the weekend and a change to relax. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>The look on Sam's face was enough to turn milk sour. "Trust Vance to have a hand in all this." He balled up his right hand and smashed his fist into the wall, scarcely noticing the pain that flared up instantly. "I thought the weasel was held at Camp Pendleton indefinitely?"<p>

Nate nodded. "That was my understanding: involuntary confinement following a catastrophic breakdown, originally thought to be PTSD. Later tests showed a chemical imbalance in his brain."

"That came as a surprise to anyone?"

Rightly judging that Sam didn't expect an answer. Nate continued. "I had my suspicions in the few times our paths crossed at the hospital that Leon was playing some sort of long game – he knew too much, he was too lucid at times when he should have been sedated from the drug regime." And now he thought about it, there were too many clues that Nate had either ignored or dismissed as irrelevant. He could have kicked himself for being so trusting. How could he not have realised that Vance was putting on an act?

"But he did pass on that message," Callen argued. "Vance definitely wanted to warn Hetty. Let's not be too swift to judge the man."

Sam glared at him for a full thirty seconds, before dropping his gaze. "You're right," he admitted. "I hate to say it, but Vance did us all a big favour there.

"Did he?" Deeks asked wearily. "Or did he make sure Hetty and I were exactly where he wanted us? Not at Camp Pendleton, surrounded by Marines – but on the freeway. Talk about making us a nice, easy target. You think anyone would have launched a grenade into the Camp? No – we had to be out in the open for the hit to be successful." It was all starting to make horrible sense, as more and more of his memory returned. "Of course, maybe Leon was willing to sacrifice Hetty in order to kill me? His first attempt didn't work, and neither did his second – but I'm going to bet that he won't stop there." He looked around the room. "Anyone want to take me up on that? No? No takers at all? I'll take that as agreement then."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Callen cautioned, laying a warning hand on his shoulder.

"Don't forget that if that rocket had been fired about 40 seconds later you and Joe could have been blown up along with us," Deeks countered angrily, and brushed off the restraining hand. "Maybe you're a target too, Callen – ever thought about that?"

Callen looked at him incredulously. "Why would Vance bother with me? I'm just another agent. A bit of a thorn in his side, but then I'm not the one who punched him in the face and knocked him out."

"Man, that was one sweet punch," Sam reminisced happily. "I still relive it in my dreams. Best punch I ever threw. It broke his nose just like snapping an ice cream cone."

Kensi shuddered. "Thanks for that delightful image. You've managed to put me off ice cream for life."

"The file, Callen – Hetty's file. We get that translated and I bet you'll find your name and mine in there. That meeting she had with Georg – they talked about us. He knew who we were. I wouldn't trust Vance to deflea Bobby."

"They spoke about me?"

"He said you'd been used, that it shouldn't have happened. And that there were people looking for you – people who had never stopped looking for you." Deeks rubbed his temples, trying desperately to remember. "He said… he said that Hetty had kept you close. And when he asked how much you knew, Hetty said that you didn't know anything."

For so many years Callen had sought to find out what had happened when he was a child, to try to solve the riddle of his early years, to make some sense of things. Along the way he'd gathered a few clues, but nothing concrete. And now it appeared Hetty had known all along. The information almost took his breath away: Hetty, his mentor, his confident had known and yet she had said nothing.

_She knew. She knew all along and she watched me searching and she never said a word. Not one damned word. _

It took a few minutes to digest this latest information, to try to put everything into perspective. Kensi thought that it was like trying to do a jigsaw puzzle looking through the wrong end of a telescope.

"Hetty sounded really sad," Deeks volunteered. "Like she really regretted whatever had happened. They both did. I think they both regretted it."

Callen knew what he was trying to say – that there was no malice aforethought, that Hetty loved him, inasmuch as she was capable of love. And that made things worse, in a strange sort of way. Because Callen had also thought that; had truly believed he was special to Hetty, that she really cared about him. And now it seemed all his beliefs were built on a shaky foundation of sand and now that the tide was on the turn everything he knew was about to be washed away, washed clean by the waves.

"What next?" Sam asked.

"Do you really have to ask?" Deeks grabbed hold of Kensi's hand. "We're off to see the Director, the Devious Director of NCIS." This time, at least the tune was recognisable. "Oh come on – what choice do we have? And anyway, it could be fun."

"You really have a warped mind at times," Kensi informed him. "Seriously warped."

"Not deviant? I'd rather be deviant with you, darling." He grinned up at her, eyes sparkling with anticipation, hyped up at the thought of a challenge.

"You're not afraid of what Leon might do to you?" Callen asked.

"Are you? Anyway, I want to find out what's behind all this as much as you do. And what's the worse that could happen?"

Kensi crossed her fingers behind her back, in a vain attempt to ward off evil. She hated it when Marty insisted on tempting fate like this. Sometimes it was as if he had a death wish.

"Maybe you should have this then? I've been meaning to give to back to you for ages." Sam reached inside his shirt and unfastened a gold chain. "This seems as a good a time as any. Because if ever anyone needed an archangel looking over them, it's you, Deeks."

"My godmother gave this to me for my christening." He fingered the medal of St Michael briefly, recognising an old friend, before putting the chain around his neck. "My dear, duplicitous godmother and great aunt, better known to you as Henrietta Lang. I wonder what she was thinking?"

"That kid needs all the help he can get?" Sam suggested.

* * *

><p><em>And for anyone who is wondering why Sam has Marty's holy medal, all is explained in my story <strong>Fame: What You Get Is No Tomorrow<br>**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: Damn your love Part II**

Leon Vance ended the call abruptly and handed her cell-phone back to Nell. "Take the rest of the day off." He didn't quite roll his eyes, but it was a close-run thing.

It wasn't an invitation but Nell wasn't giving up without a fight. "I've still got work to do. Sir." The pause was just long enough to be noticeable, not quite long enough to be insulting-but only just.

"I said, take the rest of the day off. Have you forgotten who you work for?"

"I work for an agency of the United States Federal Government." She stared up at him defiantly. "Director Vance."

Leon tried very hard to hold onto the ragged edges of his patience. "So you do know who I am? Well, Miss Nell Jones, you work for me. Understood?"

"I'll take the rest of the day off." She knew it was rude, but quite frankly she was beyond caring.

_And if working for NCIS means working for you, maybe I'll reconsider my career options. Sir._

Nell didn't drop her gaze for one instant and just continued looking coolly up at Vance, who was having a hard job struggling to control his emotions. Eventually, Leon grew tired of this game, turned on his heel and walked out.

"Did you notice how I didn't even register on the Vance radar?" Eric asked.

"Count yourself lucky. You'll still be able to pay your bills next month."

"I am still on sick leave," he reminded her. "Vance will probably just sack me by email." Eric didn't looked noticeably perturbed by this possibility, Nell noticed. But the next minute there was no disguising his joy, as he leapt from his chair. "Facebook message! Yay for social networking!"

"You need to get out more often."

"I plan to. Nell – the message was from Nico. Saying they're going to Malibu first. And seeing you've been given the afternoon off and not only am I not really here, but I don't even exist in the eyes of our Director – so what's stopping us?"

"Absolutely nothing! But there's a few things I need to do first." Every single job evaluation Nell had ever had referred to her dedication to duty, and today was no exception. But there was a decided skip in her step when she left the Ops centre couple of hours later, having systematically completed her scheduled file maintenance.

* * *

><p>"Please tell me they're not arguing over who goes in which vehicle?" Nico looked at Kensi beseechingly. "This is worse than going on a day trip with a Kindergarten class."<p>

"Callen and Sam always get the front seats,"Kensi explained. "Meaning Marty and I sit in the back. Always."

"Like they're the mommy and daddy? Cute. Weird, but cute. Or is it some sort of macho guy thing?"

"I wouldn't know, seeing as how I'm a girl. I'm not into that whole "who's got the biggest dick" thing." Only, now Kensi came to think about it, it was sort of patronising. Like when she'd just joined and they used to make her wriggle through air ducts, just because they could. And like the way she'd refused to let Marty drive when they were first paired up.

_I was just as bad as them. And I don't even have the excuse of testosterone! _

"I get to go in the convertible, because I'm injured," Deeks said, trying his hardest to look suitably pitiful. Given he was still an unhealthy shade of grey, this was surprisingly easy and Nico felt her heart ache in sympathy for him. He'd always had that effect on her, even as a little kid whose ideas regularly outstripped his physical ability. Seeing Mikey injured was something she had come only too well, but it still got to her every single time.

"So am I," Callen reminded him.

"Me too!" Kensi waved her hand in the air.

Deeks shrugged. "I'm more recently injured than either of you. Plus, one shoulder injury, two concussions and a bruised butt wins easily. And," he paused impressively, "Bobby gets car sick unless he's in a convertible." He had the look of a man who had just played his trump-card and knew it was a winner.

"Remind me why the damned dog's here?" Sam knew he'd have to drive the van back to LA and that consequently there was no chance he'd get a fast, comfortable ride, but that didn't mean he didn't want to stir things up a little.

"Because I brought him." Nico waded fearlessly into the fray. "In my BMW. Which I'm driving back, with Mikey, Kensi and Bobby. My car: my say. Alright?"

Sam gazed at her in awe. "She's impressive when she's angry."

"Tell me about it." Callen turned to him with a broad grin. "Actually, she's just impressive, period."

"Even if she ditches you for a dog?"

"She'll make it up to me later on." This time the grin practically stretched from ear to ear.

Only Nate stayed silent, in the way of one who knows he is going to be confined to the makeshift seat in the rear of a van with no air-conditioning and decidedly dodgy suspension.

"Remember, you owe me, Callen. That trip to Sea World?" Deeks waved as he settled into the BMW and gave a small sigh of contentment. "See you in Malibu!" The car gave a throaty roar as Nico accelerated smoothly, leaving the rest of the team looking on in envy.

"They'll all be sitting in that Jacuzzi, by the time we get there," Sam moaned. "Sipping champagne or whatever the rich drink at midday. And we're stuck with that heap of junk." He pointed the remote at the van sitting on the far side of the parking lot.

It was the second explosion Callen had been uncomfortably close to in less than twenty four hours and it was getting more than a little old. Once again, he found himself lying on the ground, arms protectively covering his head as debris rained down. "Everyone alright? Sam? Nate?"

"Fine. Shaken but not stirred." Sam looked across to where Nate was still in a prone position. "Nate? You want to get up now? We don't really want to hang around here."

Nate raised his head cautiously. "What the hell was that?" He was completely ashen and his eyes were as round as saucers.

"Explosive device. Triggered by the remote," Callen said laconically, extending a hand. "Good thing we weren't any closer."

Nate staggered to his feet and found that every single muscle in his body was trembling. "I take it all back. I don't want to be a field agent. I want my nice, quiet, **safe** desk job back."

"Don't take it personally. It's Callen they're after. Somebody really doesn't like you, G."

"I know. It's becoming more obvious by the second." Callen saw the BMW screeching back towards them. "Nice timing. You want to flash that plastic, Deeks and go rent us a car?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven: Damn your love Part III**

"We bring gifts!" Nell swung her laptop bag exuberantly in the air.

"You're too kind." Nico gestured across the hall. "They're in the library, and they're not happy campers."

"Deeks has a library?" Eric asked in amazement. "What's in it –bound editions of _Sports Illustrated_?"

"I heard that." Deeks was lying down on a leather chesterfield sofa, looking as if he was contemplating throwing up. "And I keep them in my dressing room, actually."

"You've got a dressing room?" Eric thought he was beyond being surprised by revelations about Deeks' life, but he just kept getting proven wrong.

"Ignore him. He's got a concussion and he thinks he's being funny," Callen explained. "And before Sam says anything, yes: I dropped him. On his head." He said this in tones of the utmost weariness and disgust.

Nell sat down beside Deeks on the sofa and looked at him anxiously. "That's terrible! How could you do a thing like that?"

"I feel terrible." Deeks laid back and looked up pathetically at her.

"Ignore him," Callen repeated. "He's fine. According to Nico he managed to treat them to an extensive medley of Beach Boy hits the moment the ocean came into view."

"My head really hurts," Deeks confided to Nell.

She was seriously starting to get worried now. "He looks really sick. Maybe we should take him to the hospital? I mean he could be bleeding into his brain or anything?"

Deeks shook his head bravely and immediately regretted it. Given the number of head injuries he'd had in the past, he really should remember not to do that. "No, I'll be fine. Besides, last time I was there the head nurse said if she caught me out of my room one more time she was going to microchip me with a tracking device. And I believed her. She was seriously scary."

"You should have done as you were told and stayed put then." There was no sympathy coming from Sam.

"I was going to see Kensi. I was worried about her." Deeks rested his head against the sofa pillows and assumed a virtuous air.

"I beg to differ! You were stoned out of your head, Marty. You feel asleep about ten seconds after you arrived."

Callen gave him a smug look. "My nurses loved me."

"Big deal. Mine snuck in when I wasn't looking to watch me getting dressed."

Sam didn't know how much more of this he could take. "Look, would you two stop with the one-upmanship contests? We've only got about an hour before going back in to the Mission and facing Vance. And talking of Vance- just when did he reappear on the scene?"

"First thing this morning. He just waltzed in, like he'd never been away and announced that Hetty had taken a leave of absence," Nell announced in tones of deep disdain and looked across at Eric.

"He looked the same as ever, right down to that stupid little toothpick in his mouth. And he knew exactly where you were." It was as if they were sharing one brain, this strange ability to finish off each other's sentences.

"Not so fast! Vance knew Hetty was gone? Nobody said anything and yet he knew?" Callen clasped his hands behind his head and was silent for a few moments, trying to work it all out. "And he knew where we were? You're quite sure you never said anything – to anyone?"

Eric and Nell exchanged glances. "Positive. What happened in Ops stayed in Ops."

"Kensi?"

"I didn't know you were in San Diego until Nico turned up. Up till then, I thought Marty and Hetty had been killed."

Callen turned his gaze unerringly towards Nico, who bristled visibly.

"Don't even go there. You were the one who called me, remember? Asked me to pick up Kensi and drive down to San Diego. And you seemed happy enough to see me when I arrived." She dug her nails into the palm of her hand and fought back the tears.

"Sorry. I had to ask. Because Vance is getting his information from somewhere and I'm damned if I know how he does it."

_No, you didn't have to ask, Callen. You could have trusted me. Like I trusted you so much that I was willing to drive all the way to San Diego, just because you asked me to. And I didn't ask any questions, I just did what you asked. And now you as good as accuse me of betraying you? What kind of person do you think I am?_

"Maybe Hetty told him?" Kensi suggested. "I know it doesn't seem likely – but it is possible. She could have left him a letter, or sent him an email?"

Callen thought back yesterday. "Not likely. Not judging by the way she acted after the crash. Hetty trusted Vance even less than we do. I'd go so far as to say that she detested him and all he stood for. She's old-school – and Vance has longings to be a politician and move on up to the Hill, where the real power is. NCIS is just a stepping stone in his career and he'll stop at nothing. Hetty knew it was a set-up. She told me so herself. That's why she got out of there. But was it to protect herself or to protect us?"

"Or both? Removing herself from the scene also removed the immediate threat." Sam was looking through the folder. "This stuff is old. Really old. It starts at least 40 years ago and it's all been manually typed. I reckon there's a chance none of this was ever transferred to electronic format. And if Hetty had the only copy, and it burned in the car along with her, then nobody would be any the wiser. Whatever secrets the file contained would die along with Hetty. Maybe she's done us a big favour by staging that disappearing act?"

It made sense, but Callen was driven by a different need – an overwhelming urge to find out the secrets he had been chasing after for so long. And it looked as if that file might just hold the key. "We kind of need your help on this one, Eric. Or more precisely, George's. We need a translator – one we can trust."

And trust was something in very short supply at the moment. Callen knew he was taking a risk in expanding the circle to include a virtual stranger, but what choice did he have? Hetty had kept her secrets well for many years but now it appeared that she wanted a wider audience to know. And exactly what was her motivation there? And where the hell was she? Callen had this horrible suspicion that Hetty was seeking her revenge and that she would stop at nothing. And given that the information contained in the file had already led to two murder attempts within 24 hours, he was starting to get seriously worried. What if this was only the beginning and things were only going to escalate from here on in? Were they really equipped to deal with a large-scale mission, one that had international implications? On the other hand, Callen was damned sure that if they didn't do something, nobody else would either, because Vance would bury the file under a pile of paperwork that would make Mount Rushmore look like a molehill. Sometimes you just had no damned choice. But there was one thing he did know: there was no way he trusted Leon Vance and right now, he wasn't sure that he could continue working for an Agency run by him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve: Damn your lies**

"Nice to see you all made an effort." Leon Vance surveyed the tired, somewhat bedraggled team standing before him. They were supposed to be the elite, the best of NCIS and they couldn't even manage a shave? Not that Deeks ever seemed to bother about little things like that. The first thing Vance had done when he'd left Camp Pendleton was to drive straight to his barbers and get his hair put into order. He prided himself on his appearance, knowing you could judge a man on such things. He cast a suitably disdainful eye over them, and thought how unimpressive they looked.

"We had other things on our minds," Callen said shortly. "Like trying to stay alive."

"I heard." He switched his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "It seems you managed."

Deeks had heard of Vance's legendary lack of people skills, but this was beyond anything he'd ever dreamt of. "We've not met. I'm Marty Deeks. LAPD Liaison." He gave a friendly smile and stretched out his hand.

Vance's own hands remained at his sides. "I know who you are." He turned his attention back to the file he'd been studying. "You were on your way to Camp Pendleton with Hetty Lang?"

"I believe I was."

"Don't play games with me."

"I'm not playing, Director. I'm serious. We had this unfortunate accident when someone tried to kill us and I've got partial memory loss. Nate says it's a common side-effect of concussion." Deeks smiled blandly at him.

"You're telling me you have no idea where Hetty is?" Deeks noticed that the toothpick was twitching in an agitation fashion.

"I'm telling you I have no idea where Hetty is. Sir."

"You said she'd taken leave," Callen reminded Vance, willing Deeks to stop baiting the man.

"Only by my reckoning, you were still in Camp Pendleton, under involuntary confinement, when Hetty left here." Sam stepped forward and looked curiously at Vance's nose: whoever had set it had done a darn good job. "So when exactly did she tell you this? And why did she tell you? Because last time I looked, she was in charge of OSP, and Gibbs was interim-Director and you were under medical treatment."

"Maybe we missed the memo. It does happen, you know. Did we miss the memo, Director Vance?"

"The original memo was rescinded, Detective Deeks." Vance removed the toothpick and stared very hard at the man. "I'm in charge. You want to see my credentials?"

"You know, given that we're in the security business, that probably would be a good idea. Not that I'm saying we don't believe you, of course. We know exactly how good your word is. But just so we all know exactly where we stand." Callen held out his hand expectantly and waited while Vance rummaged in his briefcase.

"Satisfied?" Vance watched as Callen scanned the document, observing his face as his eyes flickered down to the signature and the embossed seal.

"Nice to have you back, Director." Callen handed the letter back, refusing to let his disappointment show. "So – back to Hetty. What do you know?"

"I know it's about time we all stopped playing games and put our cards on the table." Leon Vance sat down in Hetty's chair and steepled his fingers together. "Because if we don't find her soon, Hetty's going to get herself killed."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Kensi stepped forward. "You wanted us to be truthful – well, that's how I feel. I need to know you're working with us, not against us." She couldn't forget that Vance's actions had put Marty in danger, had resulted in him nearly getting killed.

"Because I spent two months undercover in a medical facility trying to find out if there was a security risk. Two months of acting24/7, with no contact or support. And it was all set up by Hetty – it was her plan. That was the price I paid for the errors I made a few months ago. Is that good enough for you, Agent Blye? You want to go over Hetty's records and check it out?"

"No –she doesn't," Sam said. He couldn't forget that Deeks had nearly paid with his life, how he'd been convinced the guy was going to die before they could get him medical help – and all because of Vance. Two months was a very short time indeed. "She wants our tech guy to do that. Because he'll be able to tell if those records are genuine, or if they've been altered. Because you might be our boss, and we might have to follow orders, but it doesn't mean we have to trust you."

Vance leaned over the desk. "You're wasting time here. Hetty's life could be at risk."

"We don't go in for reckless endangerment," Callen reminded him. "We check our sources. Make sure we don't do anything that could put anyone at risk unnecessarily. That's part of our standing orders. Your orders."

"You don't know what you're doing, Callen. You don't know what's going on here."

"That's the whole point, Director. Do you? Because I'm tired of all the lies and all the secrets."

"It's classified. On a need to know basis."

Callen leaned over the desk, forcing Vance to retreat backwards. "You know something – I need to know. I really need to know. Someone tried to kill me twice yesterday and I don't see you doing a damn thing about it and that makes me suspicious. So I reckon I've earned the right to know – and so have they."

"You don't know what you're asking, Callen."

"I need to know." Callen kept his voice, but he couldn't keep it from trembling with barely restrained anger. "And you can either tell me, or I'll find out for myself."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen: Damn your lies part II**

_And the truth slowly begins to emerge, piece by painful piece._

Vance's eyes bored into his. "You won't get very far in your search, Callen. You have Hetty's folder, but that is only one link in a long, complicated chain. I only know a very small part of the story – it's classified way beyond my clearance level. It's an old story, that started before you were born. In a way, it started because you were born. Because you are the story. This is all about you, Callen. And about Detective Deeks. Hetty literally marked him out as being part of the chain." Vance almost looked sympathetic.

"You make it sound like she tattooed me or something."

"Hetty was a bit more subtle than that. That holy medal around your neck? St Michael, the archangel – the avenging angel - right? There must be millions just like it, hanging around the necks of the faithful. But I'm betting that on the back, yours is engraved with _veritas vos liberabit_."

"You're kidding, right?" Callen looked at Deeks, saw the shocked expression on his face and realised that, just for once, Vance seemed to be on the level. "The truth will set you free?"

"Isn't that what you've been hoping for all these years, in your search for your history? Hasn't that been the one thing that drives you on? Well -find Hetty and you'll find the truth. There can't be too many members of the chain left alive these days. Time's running out. Once the last member of the chain disappears, the link with the past will be broken and your past will be lost."

"And me? How am I involved?" Deeks demanded. The holy medal felt like it was burning into his skin.

"Through your father. That's all I know. Your link in all this is through your father – and through Hetty. As is yours, Callen."

"The sins of the fathers? Secret signs? A mysterious organisation?" Sam shook his head in disbelief. "This all sounds like a James Bond novel – and a badly-written one at that. You'regoing to have to do better than that."

"Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. They called themselves C_atena_ – the chain. A group of idealistic people, working on either side of the divide created by the Cold War, working together in secret, cutting across barriers of ideology and politics. Some of the brightest and the best minds in international intelligence were involved. And none of their respective governments were happy about it." Leon Vance looked solemn, and for a moment Callen almost felt sorry for the man. "I shouldn't be telling you this – but I'm guessing you'll find out the basic facts from that file. We know some of the people involved – Hetty, of course; her former lover Georg, a high ranking member of the East German _Stasi;_ and Joe, an operative of MI6, the British Secret Intelligence Service. Do you really think it was a co-incidence that Joe came to work for your parents back in 1984, Deeks? The very same summer Hetty came to visit. The self-same visit where she recruited your father to work covertly for US intelligence."

"She said Joe had resigned," Deeks said in a dull tone of voice. Once again his past was being rearranged, redefined and reconstructed right in front of his eyes.

"You never fully resign from MI6. Never. And didn't you wonder why a man of his skills and intelligence stayed working as a glorified handyman for all these years? It's quite simple – after what happened that autumn, he was there to look out for you and the rest of your family. Ask him about it, if you don't believe me."

"I will. When we find him."

Hearing the grim determination in his voice, Callen looked across at him. "We're in this together, Deeks. We've both got a vested interest in finding out the truth. I'm as fed up with allthe secrets and lies as you are."

"That makes three of us. And I want Hetty back here safely. She's too valuable to lose."

"That's an order then, is it? Director Vance?"

"I can't order you to do anything, Callen. You're all on sick leave. Our intelligence analyst is out of the office and the Director of OSP is taking some of her holiday leave. This meeting isn't even taking place, because I was never here."

It was almost a relief to see that some things hadn't changed, that Vance was a sneaky and devious as ever. At least you knew exactly where you stood with him. And in this increasingly uncertain world, knowing you could not trust the man was actually a positive thing.

"We'd better get going then. We don't want to compromise you."

"Appreciate it."

They walked out of the Mission in complete silence. Callen in the lead, his head held high, with Sam walking bullishly alongside him. Kensi and Deeks brought up the rear, looking straight ahead, faces set and drawn with strain.

"How much did you know about your father?" Kensi asked as Sam pulled out of the parking lot.

"Enough. Hetty told me the bare bones on the way to the meeting with Georg – that he was an intermediary, a man with connections who could make things happen. It sounded like he was being run by the CIA." He reached out blindly with his hand and took hold of hers. "I didn't have a clue about Joe." Deeks wondered just how much of his life had ever been true.

Kensi squeezed his fingers. "Joe's one of the good guys, Marty. In all this, he's been looking out for you. Don't ever doubt how much he and Caroline love you."

"I'm not sure of anything anymore." Right now, nothing seemed real and he felt as if he could sleep for a week.

Callen repressed a wince of sympathy: he knew exactly how Deeks felt. Sometimes it felt as if they were trapped a maze of lies, of ever-increasing complexity. You uncovered one lie, peeled away the artifice to discover the truth, only for another new batch to spring up in its place. "Joe insisted we go after you and Hetty. And after the rocket attack, he got Hetty the hell away. We find Joe and we're on our way to finding Hetty."

"What happened in 1984?" Sam asked. "Vance was insistent that Joe stayed because of something that happened in the autumn."

Deeks shrugged laconically. "I was a small kid. I didn't even remember Hetty visiting until she showed me the photographs. As far as I know, nothing happened. But then given all the secrets that have come tumbling out of the woodwork, I can't even begin to guess." He leant his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, suddenly aware of how much his head was hurting. "Can we just go home?"

"We're all running on empty," Kensi said, looking across at him and trying not to sound worried. Callen and Sam were not exactly at the peak of their game either and she knew that she was close to dropping. The initial adrenalin rush had long since died and they were all crashing right now. The mood in the car was one of unrelieved gloom.

"I could do a home-cooked meal," Sam confessed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything more than a snack.

"Drop us in Malibu and go home to Denise," Deeks said without opening his eyes. "Go spend some time with your family. Seriously. Get your priorities straight, Sam. One of these days, your son will thank you for it."

"He's right. You need to be with Denise and Crosby. Don't let them get messed up the way the rest of us are. You've got a normal life outside all this Sam – go and live it. This whole thing has been going on for forty years, give or take. What difference is another few hours going to make?"

"You won't get any argument from me, Callen. Just for the rest of today, though. We all need a break."

"You want to go back to your Mom's, Kensi?" Deeks knew that he and Callen had to pursue this, but they didn't need to involve the rest of the team. There was no telling how messy things were going to get.

"Nice try. You want to try looking me in the eyes and asking me that?"

Deeks turned his head slowly towards her. "Go back to your Mom's, Kensi. This isn't your mess." He looked ineffably weary, as if he had seen far too much.

"Yes, it is. What affects you, affects me. We're in this together, and don't you forget it."

Callen turned around and looked at them. "Give in gracefully, while you still can, Deeks. You're not going to win this one."

"Alright." He closed his eyes again in resignation. "I know when I'm beaten." Unseen, his fingers traced a pattern on the palm of Kensi's hand and then gripped it so hard she could feel the metacarpals press painfully together.

"You won't get rid of me that easily," she whispered. "In fact, you won't get rid me at all. Ever. Got it?"

"Got it." His eyes flickered open and he just looked at her for the longest time before he could finally speak. "Thanks." Despite everything, Marty realised there was still someone in his life who he could trust, who would always be there.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen: Damn your lies part III**

_I really should have gone to bed about 2 hours ago… but this piece just begged to be written tonight_

Sam kept the engine running when he drove up to the Malibu house.

"Can't wait to get away?" Callen asked, barely supressing a grin.

"Can't wait to go home – where I belong. This whole thing is making me look at my life and think about my priorities. I've got a family and they're the most important thing. Crosby needs me as much as I need him. And as for Denise – well, I messed things up once and I'm not going to do that again."

There were times, and this was definitely one of them, when Callen envied Sam his whole family life so much that it actually hurt. "She's a good woman. You're a lucky man, Sam."

"That's what Denise keeps telling me."

Waving him off with a laugh, Callen followed the others into the house and shut the door firmly behind him. It would be nice to be able to shut out the whole world and all its attendant worries and cares out completely, but they had only a few hours grace. He'd just have to make the most of them before returning to the hideous mess that was brewing.

"God, I missed you." He nuzzled his face into Nico's neck affectionately. After a couple of seconds he became aware that she was holding herself rigidly. "What's wrong?"

Nico glared angrily at him, not trusting herself to speak, trying desperately to hold back the tears.

"Nico? What's happened?" Callen was beginning to get seriously worried now. "Tell me, Nico. Please?"

"You don't trust me." She forced the words out from behind gritted teeth, enunciating each word slowly and clearly. "I thought you were different. I thought we had something real and you threw it all away."

Like some nightmare, he realised what she was talking about. "I had to ask. You must see that."

"No –you didn't. If you trusted me, if you believed that I really love you, then you wouldn't have asked me. But you couldn't do that. And you've killed the trust I had in you. Just like that." The tears couldn't be held back any longer and Nico turned away from him.

"Don't do this to me." For the first time, Callen saw the pile of luggage lying at the foot of the stairs. "Don't go Nico."

"I can't stay here – with you. It's too hard."

"I need you." He sounded completely broken. "I didn't realise just how much I needed you until now."

"It was never real. It was just a fling and we had fun. Only I stupidly thought it was something more than that. Only I was wrong." She looked down the luggage and shrugged. "Deja vue. This is kind of where we started, isn't it? Only as Sam isn't here this time, will you do me one last favour and help me carry this out to the car?"

"You're not going anywhere. And if you do, I'll follow you and I'll sit outside your door and I'll howl every time you play the piano and I'll never let you go. Because it is real. It's the most real thing in my life." He walked across the few feet that separated them and took hold of her hand. "I need you, Nico. And I love you." It had taken him a long time to be able to say these words.

She stared at him, wanting to believe him, but terrified of being hurt all over again. Nobody had ever hurt her so much as he had. "I love you too - but I don't know if I like you very much right now."

"That's alright." Callen kissed away the tears. "I know how to grovel. And don't forget that I gave you my whole house for your piano. That has to count for something?" And then he couldn't keep up the pretence any longer. A lifetime of holding back his feelings and she had broken the ice – and what did he go and do but nearly throw it all away? Callen pulled her into his arms and held her like he would never let her go. "Don't go, Nico. We've got so much. I need you so much. You've made my life finally make sense. Stay with me."

"You're crying," Nico said in astonishment.

"I'm crying because I hurt you so much and that's the last thing I ever wanted to do. I'm so sorry I hurt you." Callen reached out and cupped his hand around the back of her neck "And I nearly let you walk out of here." He shuddered. "I've always tried not to become emotionally attached, but I couldn't help falling in love with you. And sometimes it scares me to think how much I need you."

Nico leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and felt that familiar sense of belonging. "So shut up and kiss me."

In the kitchen, Kensi breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Thank God for that! For one moment, I thought we were going to be up all night with Callen, drowning his sorrows."

"Don't remind me. Last time he and I drank, I think it took my liver a week to recover." Marty peered through a crack in the door. "I thought we were going to be trapped in here all night,but I think it's alright – they're going upstairs."

"You want to follow their example?"

"Would it be terribly unromantic to make a sandwich first? I'm starving."

"I remember the days when you couldn't keep your hands off me." Kensi sighed dramatically. "The romance is all gone."

Marty opened the refrigerator door and surveyed the contents. "How about if I make you a sandwich? That's romantic. You want ham and cheese on your sandwich?"

"Oh yes! And one of those pickles… and maybe some chips?"

"Admit it -I know how to show a girl a good time, don't I?"

Kensi bit into her sandwich and chewed happily. "I'll let you know later. Much later."

"Are you seducing me, Ms Blye?"

"I'd certainly like to, Mr Deeks. But let me finish my sandwich first."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen: Damn your lies part IV**

_You might want to have a tissue handy…_

* * *

><p>"Are you seducing me, Ms Blye?"<p>

"I'd certainly like to, Mr Deeks. But let me finish my sandwich first."

"Can't you chew a little quicker? I'm dying here." Marty did his patented soulful look – the slight lowering of the head, then glancing sideways at her. He could see by her reaction that it had worked. "We could have a long, hot shower and then…" He paused and looked at her again, this time his eyes sparkling.

"Why don't you go on up? I could meet you under the shower?" Kensi knew exactly what he was doing but thought she could probably turn this round to her advantage. She had a decided weakness for walking in and seeing him in the shower after all: there was something mildly voyeuristic about it that turned her on. Plus, this way she not only got a sexual frisson, but she also got to finish this brilliant sandwich. Her timing was pretty damned perfect too – by the time she'd finished eating and then put all the plates and so forth into the dishwasher, the shower had been running for a few moments and the room was pleasantly warm and humid.

The glass shower door was just beginning to steam up, but she could clearly see Marty standing under the shower, his back to her. God, he had the best body, Kensi though - long and lean, toned and taut. As she watched, Marty poured out some shampoo and then reached up and started to wash his hair. The scent of mint and lemon filled the air and a stream of started to cascade down his arched back, gliding over the taut curve of his butt. She could stand here for hours, just watching him, watching interplay of the muscles in his shoulders as he moved, glorying in the perfection of his body and marvelling at the fact she had found her soul-mate, the person who made her life complete. Yes, she could stand there and watch him and wonder at the glory of it all. Then again, she could get in there with him, and enjoy things even more at close hand and really there was no competition at all. If pulling off all your clothes was an Olympic sport, Kensi would be a gold-medal winner.

"I thought you'd never get here." Marty leaned his head against her shoulder as Kensi pressed up against him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Miss me?" she murmured, nibbling gently on his ear lobe.

"Terribly." Her hands slipped down and Marty hitched in his breath. "You've got me right where you want me. Right in the palm of your hand."

"You feel so good."

His eyes were closed as he concentrated on her, on what she was doing and the magic that seemed to spring up out of their bodies. "Only you, Kensi." The look on his face was ecstatic and once again Kensi was almost speechless at the fact she could transform him into this state of nirvana so easily.

And she wanted to tell him that there was no-one else in the world but him, only the words caught in her throat. Instead, the fear and terror of yesterday reasserted itself. "Why don't you ever just listen to me and do as you're told? Just for once, can't you just do that?" She pushed him away and Marty staggered to the other side of the shower. Curling her hands into fists, Kensi started thumping him on the chest. "I told you not to get hurt, didn't I?"

"I'm fine, Kensi." He took hold of her hands and held them. "We've talked about this."

"But it's all going to start all over again, isn't it? They're not going to stop until they've killed you." She collapsed into his arms, sobbing as if her heart was breaking. "I don't want to live without you."

"They're not going to kill me, I promise," Marty soothed, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded. "We're going to sort all this out – you and me. Together." Only she'd made him think about things he'd been trying to ignore and now they were gnawing away at his guts.

Kensi's breath was still coming in deep, shuddering gasps. She reached up and grasped hold of the holy medal. "Don't take this off again. Ever. You need a whole army of angels looking after you."

"Okay." He'd do anything, say anything if it would help her get through this moment. Only there were hard choices to be made, choices he had avoided up until this point. Marty knew he was in this until the whistle blew, as was Callen - but Kensi had a choice. She was only involved because of him. End the connection and you ended the danger. Kensi could still walk out of this with her life. It wasn't fair to involve her in this. Marty suddenly realised that if he really loved her, if he loved her more than anything else: loved her more than life itself, then he had to end this –for her sake. It would break her heart, but it would save her life. There were not going to be any winners in this game. Just surviving would be a miracle.

Holding onto her, feeling her heart beating, her breath upon his chest, the silken warmth of her skin, Marty wondered how he could live without her. But he knew that he had no choice, not if he wanted Kensi to be safe. It would hurt like hell and life would be a hollow shell without her, but what choice did he have? She had to come first. If Kensi was safe, then that was all that mattered. And if she hated him, then that was the price he had to pay. Maybe if he died, it would be easier for her if she already despised him?

_Okay, I'll do it. But not tonight. Just give me tonight. That's all I ask. One last night with Kensi. And I'll do it tomorrow – I'll break her heart and she'll hate me, but she'll be safe. But I need one last night. I need her tonight._

There was no choice, because there was really nothing Marty wouldn't do for her, no matter how much it hurt, even if it meant that life wasn't worth living without her. In the end he knew that he loved her enough to let her go and because he loved her he was willing to tear his whole world apart.

Marty leaned back against the shower wall and let the warm water run down his face, washing the tears away. And then he took hold of Kensi's hand and led her into the bedroom and made love to her for the last time. One last, perfect time, holding back until she was practically crazy and blowing his mind away with the myriad of sensations and the momentary feeling that he could conquer the whole world. And afterwards Marty held onto her all night, unwilling to let go for a second, filling his mind with the memory of how he had once fleetingly touched perfection. He'd have to call on all the angels to help him get through the next few hours.

* * *

><p><em>Because only love can break your heart.<em>

_Slushy plot bunny is sitting under the table, resting his little head on my slippers and he's weeping bitter tears._


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen: And if you don't love me now**

He got up when the early morning sun started to cast shadows across the room and carefully extricated himself from Kensi's grasp, leaving to her to sleep on. It was very early, after all. Wandering downstairs, Marty walked slowly into the kitchen, to find Sam already sitting at the counter, drinking coffee and reading the paper, looking entirely comfortable, almost like he was at home there.

"I thought you went home?" Deeks shook his head in confusion and was relieved to discover that this time the action only caused mild discomfort.

"I did. And I came back this morning. Denise insisted. She said she owed you big time – for Crosby." Sam lowered the paper and stared at Deeks. "For saving his life. That came as a bit of a shock to me, seeing as how you forgot to mention it."

Realisation struck Deeks with all the subtlety of a sledge-hammer. "Oh God-I'm so sorry Sam. Really. There was just so much else going on and… I'm sorry."

"Quit babbling, Deeks. You talk entirely too much." Sam regarded him solemnly. "And relax. You saved my kid's life and then you looked after him. We owe you –me and Denise. Big time."

Even without his early morning infusion of coffee, Deeks understood what the other man was saying. "Anytime. He's a great kid."

"He has his moments," Sam admitted. "Current among which is hero-worship of you. He insists on sleeping in that shirt you lent him, by the way." He decided not to mention the fact that Crosby was now insisting he wanted to grow his hair so that he could look like Deeks, knowing full well he would never be allowed to live that down.

"Show's he's got good taste." Switching the espresso maker on, Deeks leaned back against the counter. "You don't have to get mixed up in all this, you know. It's not your problem."

"I know. You trying to tell me that I'm not needed or not wanted? That you and Callen can do this by yourselves?" He snorted at the very idea.

"This one's personal, Sam. On both sides – ours and theirs. Whoever "they" are. I was meant to die in that first attack –Callen in the second. But you don't have to be involved: it's nothing to do with you." He gripped onto the hard surface of the counter behind him. "This is an end game and it's going to get really messy. Stay out of this- for your family, if nothing else."

Sam was resolute. "I'm here because of my family. I wouldn't have a family if it weren't for you. So I'm in-all the way. And I know what the risks are, and so does Denise. And she agreed with me –so much so that she kicked me out of bed this morning and told me to get my butt over here. You don't mess with Denise. I did-once, and I just about got away with it, but I'm not doing it again." He extended his right arm." You never heard the story behind this, you?"

Deeks looked at the impressive tattoo sleeve and shook his head.

"Denise designed it – she says it represents the power of the sacred female. Or something like that. Anyway, she marched me down to the tattoo shop and watched while I was inked. It took four sessions – four long and bloody painful sessions. Literally bloody. You have no idea. But it's a good reminder to me never to mess with Denise again."

"I'll do as I'm told then. You're in. Thanks."

"There's more, isn't there?" Sam regarded Deeks quizzically and felt his heart drop when he saw the expression on his face, his dejected attitude. "No. Seriously no. Do not go there with Kensi. She's in this just as much as you are."

"She's not. Not yet. She can still get out. I don't want her involved and I'll do anything to keep her out of this."

Sam put down the paper with a sigh and walked over to stand beside him. "You never talk any sense until you've had your coffee."

"I've been up all night thinking about this. It's too risky and I can't let her get hurt. Don't you understand that?"

"I understand that I'm going to have to thump some sense into you, that's what I understand." Sam heaved a sigh. "Okay – this is relationship 101, for dummies. Lesson One: Do not cross a woman – ever. It isn't worth it, because you're never going to win. Just accept that one basic fact and all the rest is pretty easy. Lesson Two: relationships are all about two people. Bearing in mind lesson one, you are the lesser partner in the relationship, so talk about things and then do whatever she wants. Because that's what's going to happen anyway. It just saves a whole lot of time and heartache. For both of you."

Despite himself, Deeks smiled. "How long did it take you to work that all out?"

"Denise explained it to me last night. I wished she'd told me a few years ago, as it would have saved me a whole lot of trouble. She had an idea you'd come over all macho and try to do "the right thing". So I came over with strict instructions to make sure you were put straight. For some reason, Denise thinks you're a pretty decent guy and doesn't want to see you get hurt."

"Well, he's pretty and he's a guy." Kensi came in, rubbing her eyes sleepily. "That's not bad for starters." She looked at the pair of them curiously. "So who's going to hurt you, Marty?"

He grinned at her. "No-one. Because they'd have to go through you, right?"

"Got it. Are you just huddling round that coffee maker for warmth or are you actually going to put it to some use?" Kensi sat down at the counter, swinging her bare legs around the high stool. "A woman could die of thirst here."

"About that. Dying, I mean. You do know that this whole thing is optional? That you don't have to get involved. I don't want you involved. It isn't your mess."

"Think again. What involved you, involves me. End of story." She looked at him carefully. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"I don't want you to get hurt. Or worse." He looked down at his bare feet and realised the tiled floor was freezing.

"Now you know how I feel. Every time you get yourself hurt – I feel like part of me is dying."

"I guess." Marty kept staring down at the ground and Sam judged it was time he made a hasty exit.

"You were going to do something stupid weren't you?" Kensi hopped off the stool and padded across. "Some stupid, grand gesture?"

"Possibly."

"You're an idiot, Marty Deeks." Kensi pulled his head up and gazed into his eyes. "But you're my idiot and I don't know what I'd do without you." Her arms snaked around his waist. "We're in this for the long haul, you and me. Together."

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he mumbled into her hair.

"Me neither," Kensi confessed. "Don't doubt me again. And don't ever try to push me away, because I'll just keep coming back. You see, you just inspire such love in me that I can't find the words to say what I really feel."

"You're doing better than I could." Marty kissed her neck, unerringly finding the exact spot below her ear that made Kensi feel as if she was going to lose complete control there and then.

"You've got other talents. It's a fair trade." Kensi tilted her head back and shivered in ecstasy. Supported by Marty's arms she arched her back deeply and moaned when his lips grazed her neck once again.

"I've never bothered to count them, but I reckon there are at least eight bedrooms upstairs," Callen commented sardonically. "So go use one of them and let the rest of us have some breakfast."

* * *

><p><em>Well, who can blame Crosby for aspiring towards the "best hair on tv"? If you're confused - check out my story "Snippets" for full details.<em>


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen: And if you don't love me now**

_More secrets from the past are revealed… is Callen finally going to get the answer he's been searching for? Will the truth set him free?_

"I used the bedroom with the deep rose-coloured drapes," Nell said, walking in at his heels. "I hope you don't mind? It's just that we put in a long night. I think Eric and George are still asleep upstairs. I'm not sure which room they chose." She wandered over to the refrigerator and surveyed the contents, before hauling out a carton of juice.

Marty and Kensi leapt apart and busied themselves preparing coffee. "You ever get the feeling we need to get our own place?" he hissed as the machine gurgled its way through frothing the milk. Kensi didn't favour him with a response, but just stuck her tongue out briefly. "Classy."

With a guilty start, Callen realised he'd forgotten all about the rest of the team and as much as he longed to get to the point, he also knew he had a little bridge building to engage in. "Thanks for all the hard work, Nell. We appreciate it." Nell flushed becomingly. "Did you find out where Hetty is?"

"Well, Hetty's been clever – very clever." Nell poured the juice into a glass. "She used this program Eric had been developing. Basically, she entered in journey details and personal information and the program took over and created multiple bookings to all over the globe. It used different carriers, different names – all known aliases of hers, of course – and created over a thousand actual bookings. It was like a cat's cradle. Some of the tickets were sold on to third parties, others were cancelled, and some were just unused. It was a nightmare. By 10 pm Eric was vowing never to write another piece of code as long as he lived."

"You're telling me you couldn't work out where she's gone?"

Swallowing the last of the juice, Nell shook her head. "No, I'm telling you she covered her tracks really well. But even Hetty couldn't cope with the biometric information and tracking systems installed at US airports, so we were able to establish that she definitely boarded a flight going to Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris before we lost her."

"She could be anywhere in Europe by now." Callen bashed his fist off the counter. "Damn the woman." But at least it was somewhere to start, and his French was actually quite decent, even if his accent left a whole lot to be desired. "It looks like we're going to _la belle_ France then. Any objections?"

"It's not quite how I imagined seeing Paris for the first time, but it'll do," Kensi said. "Are we going officially or unofficially?"

"Interesting point. If we go officially, there are certain benefits – like being able to obtain weapons and permits legally. Plus the small matter of the backing of the US government and hopefully the co-operation of local forces and our own agents." This was no small matter, should things go wrong. Callen helped himself to a cup of coffee. "We've got a federal agent who appears to be at significant risk, and there's no reason why this shouldn't be done with the full backing of NCIS."

Sam looked incredulous. "I can think of one very good reason indeed – and it's called Leon Vance."

"We don't have to decide right now. I'm just outlining the options." No matter which way he looked at them, Callen still didn't like the picture they were painting.

"What about the file?" Deeks asked. "Did George manage to translate it?"

Nell fidgeted uncomfortably. "You'd probably be better off asking him."

"I'm asking you. You know you can't lie to me, Nell." Deeks took hold of her hand. "So tell us: what was in the file?"

"Most of it was about the kidnapping of a child – being used as leverage to persuade the father to comply with various demands. The _Catena_ got involved, they got the child back. End of story."

"There's more holes in those three sentences than in a cheese-grater, Nell." Callen commented. "Brevity has its place –but we need more details. Where did this take place – here or in Europe?" He tried to keep his voice steady, tried very hard not to get too hopeful that at last the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle of his life were starting to fall into place.

"Here. In the US. The _Catena_ suspected the US government, in one form or another, was involved, but they could never prove anything definitively." Nell grimaced. "I never thought we'd do things like that."

"The sins of the fathers," Kensi said, wondering how things had turned out for the child, but not quite daring to ask. She knew without asking that there would be no official records of any such activities –black ops relied on plausible deniability for their very existence. Hetty had been taking a huge risk by keeping any evidence.

Callen sensed this story could be the a crucial piece of evidence he'd been searching for. "The father – how did he react?"

"He did what he was told. He'd was already working for the CIA before the kidnapping, providing information and contacts. The file had no evidence about who took the child, but both sides knew about it and they both tried to use the situation to their advantage. By the end, the poor man had been recruited as a double agent and then re-recruited back by the CIA, so that he only gave carefully screened and pre-approved information back to the Communist block countries. He was a triple agent effectively."

"They used a kid?" Sam couldn't help thinking about Crosby and he wouldn't do to get him back. Would he go so far as to even contemplate betraying his country? If he was absolutely honest, Sam thought that he probably would, and then deal with the consequences once his son was safe. But much worse was the thought of being involved in an operation that demanded he take another man's child and hold him hostage until demands were made. To know that such a thing had been sanctioned by someone in authority made him feel physically sick. These sorts of things didn't happen in America –not in his America, the America he'd fought for and had seen men die for. The only problem was that Sam had been involved in his fair share of covert operations when he'd been given a specific task to do in isolation and he'd complied with those orders. It was therefore entirely possible that he too had been a part of equally repulsive activities. He would never know, but the doubt would haunt him for years to come.

"The child?" Callen had to ask. "What happened to the child?"

"We got him back. It took us six weeks, but we got him back." Joe walked in through the back door as casually as if he had merely been down to the market for milk. "This one was personal and we moved heaven and earth to get him back safely. In the end, Hetty contacted me and we met at a park just after sunset. She brought the boy with her and then she contacted his parents to tell them I was bringing him home."

"And where did you take me after that, Joe?" Callen said quietly. "And what did you tell my parents? Because I never saw them again. What the hell did you do to me?" It was very hard to stop himself from shaking the man like a ragdoll, but somehow he managed it.

Joe looked at him sorrowfully. "I'm sorry Callen, I really am - but this isn't your story. It wasn't you who was kidnapped. That operation was never about you." He looked over his shoulder and nodded.

Caroline came in quietly and walked over to Marty. "It was a nightmare. You were gone for six weeks. We thought we'd lost you for sure, and then suddenly you were back and that was all that mattered. Once we had you back, we never spoke about it again." She stroked his arm lovingly.

Kensi looked at Marty and saw the blood drain out of his face.

"Me? I was the child?" He looked completely incredulous.

"You were the child," Joe confirmed. "We found you and we brought you back home. And we thought that we'd set things right and that would be an end to matters, but we were wrong."

* * *

><p><em>Poor Callen - another dead-end for is it? What is his connection with the Catena? Devious plot bunny says you might have to wait a bit longer to find out.<em>


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen: And if you don't love me now**

"They used me." Marty stood perfectly still for a long, painful moment. "They used me to trap my father into doing whatever they wanted. My father – who was recruited by Hetty in the first place. Fucking hell. No wonder the last thing he ever said to me was "I hate you". It all makes sense now." He walked over to the door. "I need some space. I've got a lot of things to think about, to try to get my head around."

Callen would have gone after him, but Sam held him back. "Leave him. He needs this time alone. You of all people should know that. Besides, she'll be there when he's ready." He nodded across at Kensi, who was looking at the door swinging gently in the early morning breeze.

"I know where he's going." Suddenly Kensi was aware that the only thing covering her body was a knee-length robe, which she pulled protectively around herself. "I'll just go and throw some clothes on and then I'll take Bobby for a walk."

She knew exactly where he would be – the secluded stretch of beach far from the main tourist areas, where the ocean swept in clear and cold to break upon the empty sands that rose into dunes that were regularly buffeted by winds. It was an exposed and lonely place, but it was where Marty went whenever he needed to clear his mind and Kensi knew he would be there.

"Bring a sweater down with you," Callen advised. "He went out in just that shirt and it's still cold this early."

"And his shoes." Caroline looked worried. "I don't like him driving without shoes – it's dangerous. And I've told him a thousand times, but he never seems to listen." Her lip trembled. "And he's probably never going to want to listen to anything I have to say ever again. In Marty's eyes, I'm a part of all this – all these secrets and lies. And the worst thing is that he's right."

Joe enfolded her in a hug. "He's had a shock. Just give him some time. You know Marty doesn't hold grudges."

"What if he hates me?" Caroline mumbled into his chest.

"He won't hate you. He's hurt right now, but I know you much he loves you and Joe – you're like his family." Kensi remembered how much she had wanted Caroline's approval I the early days of her relationship. And she thought about how her mother was resolutely set against Marty for the simple reason that he was another link that tied her daughter to NCIS.

"We never had our own children," Joe explained, holding tightly onto Caroline. "But we had the next best thing with Marty and his brother Chris."

"We came here when Marty was just a baby. I held Marty in my arms when he was two weeks old and he filled the ache in my heart. He still does. We never wanted to hurt him." Carline looked as if her world had just whimpered to a close.

Kensi blinked furiously. "He knows that." She rushed upstairs and scrambled into her clothes in record time, almost as fast as she had shed them the night before. Why did everything have to be so complicated all the time? Just for once, couldn't they just be allowed to be happy? And why did Marty have to have the world's most dysfunctional family?

Technically, she wasn't supposed to drive yet, but Kensi had never been unduly bothered by small technicalities. The Jeep was gone from the garage, which was probably just as well, as it was a pig to drive at the best of times. Kensi noticed the Ducati was there and the engine was still warm. One day, she'd blast down the highway on the bike, but today she had Bobby skipping around her heels. So she'd just have to make do with Nico's BMW convertible. It was a hardship to have to drive such a precision piece of German engineering, but she'd manage somehow.

Bobby danced delightedly along the wide strand as Kensi walked more slowly behind him. She could see a figure sitting on the sand in the distance, hands clasped around his knees and hair blowing in the wind. As she watched, Marty reached out a hand and stroked Bobby abstractedly.

"I knew I'd find you here." Kensi handed across the sweater as she walked up. "You look freezing." She watched as he struggled into it and then knelt down behind him and slung her arms around his neck. For a long time they stayed like that, staring out across the ocean.

"Can you believe Hetty?" The tide was coming in and soon the waves would be breaking over his feet. Marty watched as Bobby rushed up to a seagull, barking excitedly and tail wagging furiously. The little dog seemed bemused when the bird simply flew away. "She single-handedly blew my whole family apart and then she deliberately dragged me into NCIS. It took me getting shot before she told me my father was dead and that she was my great-aunt. And then I had to get blown-up before I found out the rest. How many more revelations has she still got stored up?"

"I wish I had the answers." The wind was picking up now and Kensi shivered despite her jacket.

"I just keep wondering – what if Hetty had never come to visit that summer? Where would I be right now? And would they still be alive. My Mom and Dad, and Chris. Everything went wrong after Hetty appeared in our lives." Marty leant back against her and sighed. "But if things were different, we wouldn't be here, would we?"

"Probably not." She braced her feet in the sand and hugged him.

"So maybe I lucked out." He turned his head around and kissed her. "You're the only good thing in this whole fucking mess, Kensi."

"Don't blame Caroline and Joe. Please?" Kensi moved so that his head was lying in her lap, her fingers playing idly in his hair. "They're as messed up as you are about all this."

"Blame them?" Marty looked up at her, eyes wide with astonishment and as blue as the sky. "Why would I blame them?"

Kensi felt a little of the weight ease from her shoulders. "They feel so guilty about it all. And they love you so much."

"They're my one link to the past. If I lost them, there'd be no-one left at all." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Why do I end up hurting everyone I love?"

"Stop beating yourself up. Okay – you're justified – but you've got to accept what happened and then move on. So – five more minutes of revelling in your misery and then that's it." Kensi bent over and kissed him upside down, enjoying the unusual situation. "You taste like the sea. And the wind."

"You taste wonderful. You are wonderful, you know that?" The tension was leaching out of his body now and Marty stared up at the sky, with the sound of the surf breaking and foaming on the sands filling him with peace, soothing his mind, just as it always did.

"I know. And I'm modest as well. Or is that a humble brag?"

"No – you're practically perfect. It's just your lousy taste in men that lets you down." Marty sat up suddenly as a wave broke over his bare feet. "Time to get going before we get soaked." Jumping to his feet , he whistled to the dog, who studiously ignored him. "Stubborn little beast."

"Like his owner."

"Probably. Or maybe he just loves the beach as much as I do and doesn't want to leave. You can escape from just about anything here. You look at the ocean and how it goes on forever, and you know that it's been the same, right since the beginning of time and everything else just seems really small by contrast." Marty reached down and tugged Kensi up onto her feet, and then pulled her close, so that their faces were only inches apart. "I've been thinking – how would you feel about getting married here – on this beach? Or is that stupid?"

"No, it's not stupid. It sounds perfect. But like you once said – I'd marry you anytime, anyplace, anywhere. As long as you're there." She looked at him and felt her heart miss a beat. "No fuss though. No big deal – just something simple."

"No fuss sounds good. Do I have to wear a tie?"

"I wasn't planning on wearing one, so I don't see why you should. We're really going to do this, aren't we?"

"We are. Just like real grown-ups. Scary, isn't it?"

"Terrifying." Kensi whistled and by some miracle, Bobby came running up, tongue lolling and his dark eyes sparkling with excitement. "Here – put your shoes on. You know how Caroline hates you to drive barefoot."

"She still worries about me, right?"

Kensi nodded. "She loves you. I don't think she'll ever stop worrying about you."

"Let me guess – she's terrified I'm going to blame her for not telling me earlier?" Marty groaned in disbelief. "If anyone's to blame, it's Hetty. Once we find her, we're going to have a long conversation, Miss Henrietta Lang and I."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen: And if you don't love me now part III**

It had been over twenty years since they had last met, but Hetty recognised him instantly: a little above average height, his dark hair was now peppered with grey and his shoulders were becoming slightly stooped. But the elan was still highly in evidence, along with the narrow red ribbon in the lapel of his jacket. Some things, it appeared, never changed. Including the familiar clench her heart gave when she saw him. Of all her former lovers, Alain was the one she most regretted leaving behind, the one who still made her think "if only". .

"Polette?" Alain's eyes crinkled into a smile as she walked into the small café just off the Quai d'Orsay. He stood up and kissed Hetty three times and, while in his embrace she could once again smell the familiar scent of his cologne, as fresh and silvery as it had been the last time she had been in his arms. "It's been too long." Alain spoke in flawless English, with an accent that still had a devastating effect on Hetty and his eyes were quizzical as he surveyed her quickly.

"I need your help." Well, there was no sense in beating about the bush. "Someone is trying to break the chain." Sitting down with her back carefully to the wall, Hetty wondered once again what this handsome man had ever seen in her. She had never been under any illusions about her own appearance and yet, looking back over her life, Hetty was aware that all the men she had been intimate with had all been tall and handsome.

_So I have good taste in men. That's not a crime. But you were special, Alain. I wonder if you ever knew how much I loved you? How much I still love you?_

Despite all the years that had passed, all the long years that stood between them, being here with him made Hetty feel young again, as if she could cope with anything. Perhaps this time, sitting here in a small, utterly unremarkable café redolent with the scents of years of alcohol and coffee and a thousand Gauloises smoked in more civilised times, and all the other times in the past they had spent together, perhaps together they prefigured a future time, when all this would be over and they could start afresh? Then again, perhaps she was getting old and sentimental, thinking that all time was here and now and that there was any future at all. The past had reared its ugly head, the danger was ever-present and who could tell if how many days the future held for her. Maybe this was the end.

"You never change, ma chere Polette. You are still as blunt as only an American can be. Remember where you are." Alain signalled to the waiter. "A Benedictine – for old times' sake?" He waited until the drinks arrived and then raised his glass in a toast. "Never and always: may we never forget, may we always remember."

"Never and always." The alpha and omega by which she had lived for so long. "I can rely on you?"

"Would you be here if you thought otherwise? The chain is a short one these days, but it still binds us tightly."

"Someone is trying to break it. I need to know who that is." Hetty sipped her drink and watched as the sticky residue slowly eased down the sides of the glass.

Alain looked at her, his eyes dark with regret. "I had heard. That was why I sent the message to Leon Vance. He managed to deliver it?"

"He did. We got it just in time. I was able to take evasive action and get away. I had to leave my great-nephew behind." Hetty's mouth was tight with worry. "He was unconscious, the last time I saw him."

"I still think of him as four years old," Alain confessed.

"I do too, sometimes. It's hard to forget what happened – and to know that it happened because of me." Hetty knew that by now Marty would have discovered the contents of her file. She thought of all the things the file did not reveal – the way he had clung to her, half-starved, bedraggled and covered in bruises; the tears she had wept as she tended to the terrified child; the terrible guilt that had seared her ever since.

"He is alive because of you. Never forget that. As is the other boy."

A flicker of unease crossed Hetty's face. "It is the other boy who worries was another attack, after I had already left. Two attacks in one day. Someone is very determined."

"Have they found him?" Alain fingered the strap on his watch, conscious that he had already been here for too long. Forty years was such a long period of time, but it seemed like yesterday. Forty years ago a group of young agents had come together to save a child and those events had bound them irrevocably to one another. It was a long time to keep a secret and they had done well. The boy would be a man now, Alain realised, a man without a past. Perhaps it was better that it should stay that way?

"I believe so. And at the same time, he is beginning to get closer in his own search for the truth. We have a two-edged sword trying to pull us apart." Hetty laid her hands flat upon the table.

"Sometimes the past should remain safely buried. We did what we did for all the right reasons. He is only alive because we cared enough to save him. You need my help – you have it. I will not break the chain."

_How could doubt that, Polette? After what we once meant to one another. I will always be there when you need me._

"Georg was able to warn me. He probably saved my life. But it is too risky to ask him for anything more, even now."

"A debt repaid then. Georg is, of course, a little closer to the source than we are. And a little closer to danger as well. So that only leaves one more friend for you to see then. The last link in chain." Alain smiled at her. "I wish I could join you. Give her my love." He stood up to go and then turned around. "Her husband is still alive. That could cause further family problems, Hetty."

"I know. But what choice do I have, Alain? I can only play the cards I have been dealt."

"You could cheat a little?" Alain shrugged. "_A bientot."_

Hetty sat perfectly still and watched as he walked out of the café, turning his collar up against the cold wind. Her eyes followed his figure as he walked briskly across the street and into the beautiful building on the other side of the road, redolent with history, and honour and chivalry and she thought how fitting it was that such a man should work there. Another drink would have been nice, but it was time to move on, so Hetty left a short while afterwards and walked slowly along the banks of the Seine, watching as the deep, dark waters chop against the stone walls. Ahead, she could see the vast bulk of Notre Dame soar broodingly above the city, as if it was praying for all the sinners.

She bought a small bunch of violets from a vendor, velvety soft and fragrant and went unerringly to a high wall on l'Ile de la Cite, where the bullet marks of seventy years ago had been preserved and a plaque marked the sacrifice "_pour la liberte_" and laid them on the sidewalk. Once there would have been many such tributes, but today hers was the only one. There were so few people left who remembered: soon there would be none. Enticing smells came from the open doors of a bistro, but Hetty did not stop. You do not eat when you've lived too long.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty: And if you don't love me now part IV**

"Wipe your feet!" Caroline said automatically. "I'm fed up with half the beach being traipsed into this house."

Bobby scampered happily up to her and gave a vigorous shake, starting at his head and continuing to the of his tail and depositing another pile of sand onto the floor.

"Sorry." Marty carefully wiped both feet and then took off his shoes, just to be doubly sure, before approaching her with a bashful look. "I'm really sorry." She still had the ability to make him feel like a little kid.

"You had every right to be annoyed. I should be the one to apologise." At the end of the day, all that Caroline cared about was that he was safe. And she'd never been able to stay angry with him for long, especially when he put on that wounded puppy look.

"I wasn't angry at you – more angry with life in general." He pulled her into a hug. "I don't blame you – or Joe. I never have."

"Don't blame Hetty either," Joe advised. "She did everything she could to get you back safely. At considerable risk to her career and to her life."

"Hetty always has an ulterior motive. Usually wrapped up in duplicity and tied in a bow of intrigue. Using a double granny-knot to boot." Marty shrugged. "It happened. Nothing's going to change that. But I'm getting fed up with Hetty pulling the strings off-screen. There's just too many things that have happened and they all trace back to her."

"Hetty usually has a good reason for everything she does, you know. Just remember that. And remember too that sometimes, she's had to do things she may regret, like all of us. But Hetty tries to make amends – to sort things out. Look how she got you out of LAPD. Do you really think you would have lasted much longer in those undercover ops you were getting assigned? The ones with the crap cover stories and the minimum back-up in place. You were on a hiding to nothing there and you know it, if you're honest with yourself. Hetty did you a big favour." Behind his back, Joe carefully crossed his fingers. With any luck, Marty would never discover who had alerted Hetty to that situation in the first place. It had only taken one phone call, just as Joe had suspected it would.

"I pissed off a lot of people, I guess. Especially the shields." Marty was beginning to wonder though – perhaps things had been deliberately lax? Butit was ridiculous to think these conspiracies went as far as the police force – wasn't it? "But it was crappy, you're right. Even when I got shot a few months back at that convenience store, LAPD didn't seem too bothered. And I was one of them. I still am – technically." Thinking about some of the undercover operations he'd run, Marty realised he had hurt people just as much as Hetty had, especially when he was living as Max Gentry for all those months. That guy had been a complete bastard, and there was a time when it had been difficult to know where he ended and Max begun. Marty wasn't proud of the things he had done as Max, but he had to live with them. The past couldn't be changed. He began to get an insight into how Hetty must feel.

"Maybe Hetty did you a favour –got you out of LAPD while you were still alive and kicking?" Kensi suggested.

"Could be. Just look - I'm still kicking. Every step of the way."

Joe smiled. "You kicked me that night I collected you in the park. I reached out to take you from Hetty and you screamed blue murder and kicked me right in the family jewels. I was singing soprano for a week afterwards."

"Sorry. I don't remember, if that's any consolation." Only there were faint memories stirring at the back of Marty's mind. Memories of being cold and frightened, of being in a dark room and wanting his Mommy and Daddy so much. Of crying and realising that for the first time in his life nobody was going to come and comfort him. The predominant memory was of being completely alone. Marty shivered, despite the fact the sun was fully up and the house was already pleasantly warm. This was the source of his nightmares, the white nights that had cursed him for years. The sleepless nights of untold terrors and fear that gripped him so completely he could not escape its clutches.

"You were terrified. You didn't know what you were doing," Joe consoled him. "And I was just so damned glad to have you safe in my arms, I really didn't care. I'd let you down – they caught me off-guard and knocked me out that day you were taken. It was all my fault."

"It was nobody's fault," Marty said and was surprised to find that he actually believed it. "Not even Hetty's," he added reluctantly. "But don't ever tell her I said that. I want to see her squirm just a little bit when we finally catch up and have that long-overdue chat."

"I'd pay good money to see that. And I expect a front row seat." Caroline was not so ready to forgive and forget. She had a lot of anger stored up over the years and was not so ready to let Hetty off the hook. "So go find her, Marty. Use those detective skills of yours and bring that woman back here." She swatted him on the butt. "And make sure you eat something first. And that goes for you too, Kensi."

"I know when I'm beat." Marty remembered Sam's words from earlier that morning and decided to give in gracefully, for once. Besides, it looked as if they were going to be making a long trip in the near future and he'd never been able to stomach airline food. By the time they eventually joined the rest of the team in the library, events had moved one. Literally, as it transpired.

"Hetty's not staying in one place too long. We've just found a booking on Air France to London Heathrow, leaving Charles de Gaulle 8pm local time." Eric looked up from the screen and did a quick calculation. "Shit. Which means she's already in the air." His fingers flew over the keys. "In fact, they should be landing right about now."

Callen stared at the original booking details. "She's used her real name. It's like she's taunting them deliberately." This wasn't good – Hetty was the last person to break the rules like that, unless she felt she had no other option.

"Or us," Sam said. "Maybe she wants us to find her? It could even be her way of asking for help. Still, it could be interesting. I've never been to England."

Nico looked up from her seat in the corner where she and George were trying to appear interested in a game of Scrabble. "It rains a lot. Most of the time, I seem to remember. They have these big red buses that drive on the wrong side of the road, they have an obsession with queuing and they drink tea."

"Not unlike the old Soviet block then: Hetty should feel right at home. At least we won't have any language problems." Callen straightened up and looked around the room. "We're going then?" Under the circumstances, he couldn't exactly order them to do anything; this had to be a group decision. "Deeks?"

"I'm going. I've still got more questions than answers. Plus, there's that small matter of family loyalty. Kensi?"

"Count me in. I don't trust you not to get yourself killed. Sam?"

"No need to ask. I'm with you guys."

"You're kind of needing us to stay here, aren't you?" Nell said, knowing what the answer would be. "But you know I'd come in a heartbeat." Somehow she had got pulled into their lives and the prospect of the team several thousand miles away on the other side of the world was quite terrifying.

"We know. You and Eric hold the fort back here for us, alright? Keep an eye on Vance for us."

"And I'll just stay and chew my fingernails up to the elbow, shall I?" Nico asked acerbically.

"Next time we need a world-famous pianist, you'll be first on the list. Until then – you stay here, where Caroline and Joe can keep an eye on you." Callen softened his words with a meaningful glance. "At least Hetty's solved one dilemma for us – by using her own name, we can go in officially."

"That means NCIS are picking up the tab for the plane tickets? Damn." Deeks looked seriously worried. "They'll fly us coach. We've got to do something about that." He wandered off, muttering under his breath.

"Is he serious?"

Nico looked incredulous. "You really want to spend a long-haul flight sitting upright, squished so tightly against the person in the next seat that your elbows knock together like castanets and eating rubber chicken? Or do you want a nice, comfortable seat that turns into a bed, so you can have a decent sleep and arrive looking and feeling like a human being? There's no contest."

"There is if you're not rich," Sam reminded her. Most of his flights had been on military transport, which made coach seem positively luxurious by contrast.

"Tell Vance to upgrade you - my treat. On one condition."

Callen was not buying any pigs in pokes. "And that is?"

"We meet up in Paris afterwards. Just you, me and the Eiffel Tower." Nico lowered one eyelid slowly in a highly suggestive manner and Callen found himself blushing.

"That way you'll always have Paris." Kensi couldn't resist the quip.

"They hate my accent in Paris. Last time I was told that I spoke like a Canadian," Callen said. "I don't think they meant it as a compliment."

"Don't worry, honey. The French love me. Anyway, I think you're a cunning linguist."

Sam hadn't thought it was possible to Callen to blush any more deeply, but he was wrong.

"You might want to hold off booking those flights," Eric warned. "Hetty's landed, but she's just booked an onward flight at Heathrow."

"She's not staying in London?" Callen took a look at the flight details and shook his head. "What is she playing at?"


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twentyone: You will never love me again**

_At last Callen discovers the truth…_

"Knowing Hetty – well as much as she ever allows anyone to know her, I'm guessing this is for real. She probably just couldn't get a seat on a direct flight at the last minute. But it's hard to tell what anything is at the moment. Deeks would call this Bizarro World, and he wouldn't be wrong. For once." It looked as if it pained Sam to admit this. "But there's only one way to find out. It's time for our fearless leader to call Vance, eat some humble pie and get us on the next available flight.

"Why me?"

"For starters, you're not the one he could still charge with assault. Plus, you get paid more than I do-so start earning your salary. You've been lying around in the lap of luxury for the past few weeks while the rest of us have been scaling mountains, and going under cover."

Callen tried to look offended. "I was injured."

"And you had Nico at your side 24/7. And you came back to the unsurpassed luxury of this house. My heart bleeds. Meanwhile, I was banged up in Camp Pendleton – and let me tell you, they don't recruit Marines on the grounds of their good looks."

"I'll make the call, but only to shut you up. You're starting to whinge almost as much as Deeks."

Sam ignored this. "And get Vance to organise someone to cut through all that red tape the Brits have about carrying concealed weapons while he's at it. That should keep him out of our hair for a while."

Nell looked at him with considerable admiration. "You're really sneaky, aren't you?"

"I try my best."

"He learned from the best – Hetty." Callen had been mulling things over in his mind, and there were still some questions that required answers. "And you're catching on very nicely yourself, Nell?" He gave her an utterly charming smile and Sam felt a familiar shiver of danger. "Those half-truths you tell with such ease are very convincing. I almost believed you – until I saw the look of relief on your face."

"Callen?" Sam's voice held a note of warning. This was coming completely out of the blue – this wasn't the way they worked. For the first time in their partnership, Sam had no idea where Callen was going and he was beginning to get worried.

Callen ignored the interruption. "You told us about Deeks – but here was other information in the file, wasn't there? Why don't you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Callen." Nell forced herself to look at him directly.

Callen returned her gaze steadily and held it until she was forced to drop her eyes. "How about I just ask George to tell me about the other information he translated? The bits that go back forty years – long before Deeks was even born, far less abducted."

This was an interrogation, Sam realised and Nell had no idea how to respond. She looked like a trapped animal and he was dreadfully afraid she might start to cry.

George cleared his throat awkwardly. "Perhaps I could help? The rest of the file relates to the _Catena_ – to its inception. The group started back in 1967, when an up and coming KGB official became involved in a clandestine relationship with a young student, with liberal, perhaps even radical connections. The affair didn't stay secret for long - it became common knowledge in intelligence circles, and both East and West were clambering over themselves to take advantage of the situation. The Soviets wanted to use the situation as leverage for their officer, while the West saw an opportunity to obtain a double agent. In the end, the official was allowed to remain in post, the student was taken into "preventative detention". Depressingly enough, this was all fairly routine stuff for the time. Nasty, but not out of the ordinary." George's flat, factual delivery belied the impression the contents of the file had made upon him, the way human lives could be subjected to the furtherment of power.

"And?" Callen glared at him, focusing his attention fully. "There's more to this, isn't there?"

"The official was transferred to a position in the West. The student wasn't so lucky. After a period of time in detention, all enquiries came back marked "Person Unknown". You can guess what that means as well as I can. But there was a child, taken from the mother at birth. That child was to be used as a hostage to fortune. And that's where the _Catena_ came in – that was why they came into being, to be exact. They were a loose federation, a group of people with principles and they agreed the child was not a pawn to be used to decide who should hold the balance of power. They put aside personal allegiances so that he should have a free and independent life. It was a brave, principled decision. And it was very risky for everyone involved." George cleared his throat and looked at Callen apologetically. "Eric filled me in on your background, so I know how much this means to you. And I wish I could help. I'm adopted, so I know what it's like not to have an immediate, accessible background. But the file only gave the broad outlines, nothing more"

"No names?" He needed something concrete to grasp onto.

"Not even that."

"Except that I was that child." Callen said it with complete finality, as a statement of fact, not a question. The strange thing was that Callen had felt completely detached when listening to George speak, as if this was just another story, told in isolation, not the final answer he'd been searching for over decades. Somehow it seemed almost right that there should be no neat solution, as if this had been inevitable. "I was that child – wasn't I?"

_I feel nothing. No anger, no remorse – not even relief. How can that be possible?_

"You were that child," George confirmed. "Hetty traced you to Romania, and the _Catena_ literally passed you along the chain. Each person involved could only identify two others. Pretty rudimentary security – but it worked. Up to a point. They lost three people in that operation."

Three people. Callen had never thought of that before. Three people had died so that he might live freely. Suddenly, that put things into perspective. The driving urge that had governed him for so long didn't seem quite so important now. He had a background – of sorts – at last. Maybe it was enough? Perhaps it would be selfish to demand more. "Hetty started this?"

"It appears so. She was friendly with your father – they met when they were both studying in Prague. She seems to have admired him deeply – for his intellect and his loyalty."

_I think she might have been in love with him. Why else would she have felt so deeply about saving his child? There were many children who suffered much more. Maybe your boss moved heaven and earth to save you because she loved your father and it was the last thing she could do for him? _

"She's the reason I'm alive," Callen realised. And he wondered if Hetty had also played a part in his recruitment into NCIS. Both he and Deeks had ties to Hetty – and here they both were, in her team, literally where she could keep an eye on them. So his father was dead – that seemed unequivocal, and after all, there was no reason why the authorities should have kept him alive, once they had the child… but what about his mother? There was a chance she could still be alive. And Hetty would know. Of that he had no doubt.

"Callen? I'm sorry." Nell looked totally abashed. "That story – knowing it was about you, knowing how much you wanted answers, well – I didn't know what to say." She looked very small and very young as she looked up at him, clearly needing absolution.

"The truth – that's what you should have told me, Nell. You have no right to try to withhold any information that could relate to an enquiry. You were completely misguided. Don't ever try to protect me again, because you have no idea how I feel about anything." Callen's eyes were cold and his voice was emotionless.

The atmosphere in the room was palpably tense as Sam looked around and he realised he had to do something – anything – fast. "You do realise we'll have to shoot you, George?" He loomed over the much smaller man and squeezed his shoulder. "You know too much. Sorry about that – reasons of national security."

Eric sighed deeply. "Very funny, Sam. George isn't used to your warped sense of humour. Knock it off. Or I'll fix your plane reservations so that you end up sitting next to the woman travelling with a colicky child."

"George knew I was joking – didn't you?"

George judged it safest just to nod. He didn't quite trust his voice yet. And his shoulder was tingling from Sam's grasp.

"Make that call, Callen – we need to find Hetty more than ever now. That little stunt she pulled rescuing you must have made an awful lot of people unhappy – on both sides of the Iron Curtain. And you know what long memories people can have. The file didn't contain any names – but you can bet they're safely stored in that head of hers." Sam knew that Callen needed time to process the information he'd just heard, and a long-haul flight to Scotland was the ideal opportunity to do just that.

* * *

><p><em>And so they are off to Bonnie Scotland - home of the heather, the finest single malts known to mankind and the world's first transgenic sheep.<em> _Can we expect to see Callen in a kilt while Sam plays a pibroch on the bagpipes? Will they watch Scotland's finest get thoroughly trounced at Murrayfield? (rugby allusion) Or will it just rain a lot?_


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-two: You will never love me again**

"What time is it?" Kensi asked, looking at her watch in confusion as she walked unsteadily along the corridor towards passport control. "Is it today or tomorrow?"

""GMT plus one," Sam said unhelpfully. "British Summer Time."

Deeks seized the opportunity gleefully. "Isn't that an oxymoron?" The look of blank confusion on Sam's face was priceless: he'd been waiting for an opportunity like this ever since his first days with the team when Sam kept insisting there was no such word as "liaising." It had been a long time coming, but this was worth every second.

Callen decided to step in before things deteriorated any further. "It's seven thirty a.m., Kensi. Which means it's eleven thirty back home. At night."

"So it's today **and** tomorrow?" Kensi looked confused and was beginning to wish she hadn't spent the entire flight watching moviesinstead of sleeping. And maybe that last glass of wine had been a mistake? "I think I'm jet-lagged."

"You'll be fine once you get some coffee," Deeks assured her, taking her arm as she began to weave slightly. Perhaps he should have warned her that drinking alcohol on a flight was twice as potent as drinking on the ground?

"Coffee sounds wonderful." Kensi leant against him and smiled happily. "First class was lovely, Marty."

"Exactly how much did she drink?" Callen hissed.

"Don't ask me. I went to sleep. Why else do you think I wanted a bed?"

"We left LA just after breakfast – how on earth could you sleep at that time?"

"Quite easily." Deeks looked at Sam incredulously. "You mean I paid for that upgrade – for the seat that goes into a completely flat bed and you didn't even bother to try sleep? You're flying back home coach. First class is wasted on you."

"Sam and I were worried you and Kensi would try to join the mile-high club, so we stayed awake to preserve the reputation of NCIS. Some of us have a sense of duty."

"How noble. You should have stopped her drinking then, seeing you were awake and I was asleep." Deeks favoured Callen with a pitying look. "And anyway, I thought everyone knew the only way to join the club is in a private jet. Otherwise it's just plain tacky. And you end up flushing the toilet at the most inappropriate times. Nothing kills the moment quite like that. Except maybe the next passenger thumping on the door and asking why you're taking so long. That's a real passion killer. Take my advice and wait until the next time you're on a Gulfstream. You'll thank me." He propelled Kensi a little faster towards passport control.

"The next time?"

_Deeks is more than ten years younger than me, so how come I'm still waiting for my first time in a private jet? And I'm not in that damn club either. One day Denise and I are going take that trip to Hawaii we've been promising ourselves. And I won't go anywhere near the toilet flush button._

Sam had to ask. "Okay, which bit do you believe: the bit about doing it on a private jet or the fact he's definitely done it on a scheduled flight?"

Callen thought carefully. "Knowing Deeks, I'd have to say both. More than once, on both counts."

_I wonder if Nico knows anyone with a private jet? I'm not asking Deeks – not after that remark._

"That's what I thought. Lucky bastard."

Clearly, somebody had pulled some strings somewhere, as they were escorted through customs and passport control with enviable speed. All that they needed to do was to find the NCIS agent assigned to assist them. Callen scanned the people waiting behind the barrier, searching for some clue. And then he saw her.

"Mr Vance's party?" She was young and she was beautiful, and yet Callen's heart sunk. "I'm Special Agent Erica Jane Barrett. You can call me EJ."

And in that moment, Callen knew exactly how Bogart had felt. Of all the operations all over the world, why did she have to be assigned to his? "It's been a long time, EJ."

"We've got a lot of catching up to do," she replied, and took hold of his hand.

"Who the hell is that?" Deeks asked, watching fascinated as EJ propelled Callen towards the exit. It was like watching a tug tow an ocean liner to its berth.

"The infamous EJ Barrett," Sam said. "A little ballbreaker, who rose very high, very -incidentally, her uncle was Sec Nav at the time. Some call her the Man-Eater, others the Black Widow. I just call her trouble. Last heard of, she had her claws into DiNozzo at the Navy Yard in Washington, but it looks like Callen is well and truly on her radar now. EJ never takes "no" for an answer."

"I told him he should have slept on the flight. Callen might have been able to escape her clutches if he'd been a bit more awake. Or at least he could have run." Deeks watched the way EJ's ass was on display in the tightest pair of leather pants imaginable. They almost made his eyes water. "You reckon she needs help to get those on?"

"EJ's never admitted she needs any help in any department. She's trouble – pure and simple."

"Come off the fence and tell me what you really think, Sam. You've met her before then?" Deeks nearly lost his grip on Kensi as she staggered towards the car.

"Oh, we've met." Sam took hold of Kensi's other arm and steadied her. "I got out in one piece. Callen wasn't quite so lucky." He watched as EJ's hand settled firmly on Callen's butt. "Looks like she's taking up where she left off."

"I almost wish Nico was here. I haven't seen a good cat fight for years."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-three: You will never love me again III**

"Your wish might just come true, if EJ continues like this." Sam watched as Callen stepped adroitly to the side and EJ's hand was left hanging in mid-air.

Deeks' eyes were sparkling. "You want to start a book? I've got twenty that says Nico wipes the floor with her. EJ might be an agent, but Nico fights down and dirty."

"Callen's probably taught her a thing or too as well." Sam sighed. "EJ is just pure poison, but there's something about her that draws men to her. She burned G good time, but it looks like she's ready for second helpings." Three years ago he hadn't been able to speak so calmly about it. Three years ago he had wanted to wring EJ's neck with his bare hands. Sam had written the most stinging report of his career after the Rota disaster, but clearly having Sec Nav as your uncle meant that someone had buried it and EJ had got off scot-free. Well, maybe he could redress things by making her squirm just a little.

"EJ and G were together?" Deeks tried to imagine it, and got distracted once again by the sight of EJ's ass in those tight pants. It reminded him of two hardboiled eggs in a taut leather hammock. Whoever had made those pants must have used industrial grade thread, judging by the way the seams were straining. "Drawn together by their mutual lack of a normal first-name?"

"More like mutual lust. And then she sold Callen down the line. He ended up with a broken heart and a broken arm. It took him a long time to get over that." Sam let his gaze follow Deeks' and grinned appreciatively. "Although I can see that there is a certain attraction."

EJ looked over her shoulder, just in time to catch the look on his face and a small smile of triumph flitted across her mouth. "Enjoying the view, boys?"

"I don't think we've met," Deeks said smoothly, and offered his hand – the one that wasn't currently engaged in holding Kensi up. "Marty Deeks."

EJ let her gaze fall slowly down to his crotch where it lingered for several seconds before raising her eyes slowly back up again. "Nice. Nice to meet you."

"I was sorry to hear about your last team, EJ," Sam said pointedly. "Loosing an agent's never easy, but when the other one ups and quits on you, that's got to be quite a blow." He glanced sideways at Callen, who was standing there with a determinedly neutral expression on his face. "How's DiNozzo doing these days? I heard you two were an item."

"He was just fine, last time I saw him." EJ drummed the finger of one hand against her leg. "I even offered him my Rota position, but he wasn't interested. Said he'd rather stay with Gibbs."

"Loyalty – you don't often see that these days, do you? Although the way I heard it, you only got Rota in the first place because DiNozzo turned it down." Sam was baiting her as hard as he knew how.

"I was damned successful in Rota," EJ flared.

"That's not quite how I remember it."

Behind her back, Callen rubbed his left forearm thoughtfully, remembering a time three years ago when EJ's promised back-up had failed to materialise. He and Sam had been left with their backs firmly up against the wall. They'd got out, but only just. And no thanks to EJ. She hadn't even bothered to come and see him in the Naval hospital. Still, at least he knew exactly where he stood with her now. And now that he had Nico, Callen could see what a sham his time with EJ had been.

Besides which, EJ was past history – they had been two lonely people who had come together. Callen could see how they had used each other and how hollow it had all been. Although it had also been fun – at the time. It was funny how he could remember the sex with EJ, but nothing else. There had been none of the long conversations he had with Nico, when they lay together after making love and talked of everything and nothing, during the time when the entire world shrank to the dimensions of the bed they shared. But then he was in love with Nico and Callen wasn't sure if he had ever even liked EJ. Looking at her now, he felt nothing except a vague sense of pity. It seemed she'd used DiNozzo in the same way she'd used him and dumped him just as quickly.

Next time I'm in Washington, we'll hook up for a beer and a bitch. We can talk about how lucky we were to get out with our hides in one piece.

"Let's get going," he said. "It's been a long flight and we're all tired." And they had an ever longer journey ahead of them, trying to track down the enigmatic and elusive Hetty Lang.

EJ drove in silence, painfully aware of Callen sitting in the passenger seat beside her. She'd wanted to get in touch with him so many times over the years. That last morning in Rota, she'd said goodbye to him in the morning, trying to ignore the gripping pains in her stomach, putting on a bright smile. The meet was set for midday, surely once she'd taken a couple of Tylenol she'd be fine? Only things hadn't worked out that way. The bright red blood in the bowl of the toilet had confirmed what EJ had suspected all along. She was only two weeks late, so it wasn't a big deal. Of course it wasn't. It wasn't even as if it had been a baby. It was just… unfortunate. So why did it hurt so much? Why did she so empty inside and such a failure? This sort of thing happened every day, so EJ couldn't work out why she felt as if her world had ended

She sat in the bathroom for a long time, staring at the wall and wondering what things might have been like. Only that made things worse and EJ started crying all over again. Eventually, she summoned up enough energy to crawl into bed, wrapped the covers around her and stayed there for the rest of day, crying and sleeping and wishing Callen was there to make everything right.

"_Where the hell were you?" Sam stood in the doorway, looking angrier than EJ had ever seen him. His clothes were covered in dirt and his eyes were rimmed with red._

"_I got sick." EJ could feel how unsteady her knees were and leaned against the wall for support._

"_You got sick? Well, we nearly got killed." He spat the words out. "Callen's in the hospital right now, and it's no thanks to you he's not in the morgue. Don't even think about going there to visit, EJ – you've caused enough trouble. You stay the hell away from him, right?"_

_Sam had stormed off after that and EJ just made it to the bathroom before she began throwing up. _

Despite everything, she'd gone to the hospital the next day, dosed up with painkillers that didn't touch the ache in her heart, only to find Callen was already on a flight back to the US. And she'd not seen him since then. Their baby would have been two and half, had he or she lived – old enough to be running around and babbling nonsense and… and there was no sense in going down that road. There never had been a baby. EJ glanced at Callen out of the corner of her eye and wondered if she would ever have the courage to tell him. And then she put her foot down and cruised along the long, straight road that led into the city.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-four: You will never love me again III**

_Sorry, amblue – no maims yet!_

* * *

><p>EJ didn't at all speak during the journey, except to ask where they were staying<p>

"Heriot Row, in the New Town." Deeks and Sam were sitting in the back, with Kensi in-between them, her eyes shut and giving every appearance of being asleep.

"Nice address." EJ's eyes met Deeks' in the rear-view mirror. "A cut above the usual NCIS accommodation. You've got contacts, I suppose?" It was hard to keep the note of resentment out of her voice. She'd done her homework and knew exactly how rich he was. EJ could only imagine how easy life was for Deeks and wondered why he was bothering at playing being an agent, or liaison or whatever the hell he called himself. She knew his type and had summed him up the moment he came loping across the arrivals lounge, privilege oozing out of every pore, along with the type of easy charm and confidence that only money could assure.

"I've got friends, EJ" he said pleasantly. "Have you got a problem with that?"

"Introduce me to them sometime, why don't you?" The words came out of her mouth before she had a chance to think. But actually, she wouldn't mind meeting some of his friends, certainly not if they looked anything like Deeks. And if they had enough money to buy property in the New Town, that was only to the good.

"You give a whole new meaning to the word pushy, EJ – did anyone ever tell you that?" Despite everything he'd been told and her decidedly abrasive attitude, Deeks could empathise with EJ. It wasn't easy being the perpetual outsider. Mind you, she didn't do anything to help herself. She was so prickly she had more spines that a porcupine.

EJ pulled up outside the Georgian building and tried not to look too envious at the surroundings, thinking of her own flat in a tenement on a busy street, only a couple of miles away physically, but it might as well have been in a different world. This street epitomised the quiet, restrained, highly-cultured Edinburgh society that did not admit outsiders easily. EJ consciously of how out of place here in her leather pants, but although Deeks was in worn jeans and sweatshirt, somehow he fitted in effortlessly. It must be the money, she thought. And then she watched as he and Callen and Sam joked as they unloaded the luggage and hefted it up the flight of steps and EJ realised that they were a real team, something she had never experienced. There was a sense of unity, of completeness there. Finally, Deeks bent inside the car and coaxed Kensi into semi-wakefulness and wrapped his arm around her waist as she blearily walked towards the front door.

"If you need anything, just call me, okay?" It was obvious to EJ that these two were in a relationship, even before she noticed the solitaire diamond sparkling on Kensi's ring finger. Why did some people have all the luck? She would bet good money that Marty Deeks had never known a days hardship in his entire life.

"Thanks. We'll do that." He gave her his perfect, all-American smile and then turned his back, just as everybody else in EJ's life did.

"You ready for bed, sweetheart?" he whispered as Kensi rested her head against his shoulder. She yawned and nodded sleepily. Marty stepped into the hall and looked at the staircase rising up towards a glass copula. "If I'm going to make a grand romantic gesture, you could at least be awake enough to notice," he complained, easing her up into his arms.

"I'm awake," she responded, and slung one arm around his neck as he started climbing the stairs. Nice place. What is it – three storeys?"

"Four – counting the basement."

Kensi tilted her head back and stared upwards. "Are we going all the way up there?"

"What do you think I am, Superman? The master bedroom's on the second floor, according to Steve." He was panting slightly when they reached the landing.

"I thought you promised to take me to heaven and make me see stars?" Kensi commented as he kicked open a door

"Not in the drawing room. Sam would be sure to complain." Marty nodded briefly to his colleagues and turned around with a slight effort and tried the door at the opposite end of the hall, this time with more success. "You sure sobered up quickly." He dropped her onto the bed with considerable relief.

"You have this effect on me." Kensi lay back and stared up at the elaborate plaster mouldings. "We're really here – in Scotland!" She bounced up and down experimentally.

"We are indeed." Marty was very glad he'd had that sleep on the plane.

"I've never made love on an island before." Kensi kicked her shoe off and watched it fly through the air with considerable interest.

Marty reached out with one hand and caught it, just before it crashed through an original Georgian casement window. "You won't be able to say that for much longer."

Sam got up and shut the door, very conscious of how far away Denise was. He certainly didn't need any reminders from the resident love-birds about just what he was missing. "You want to see if we've got any more information on Hetty's whereabouts?"

"Why not?" Callen wandered over to the French windows and stared out across the street to the garden opposite, where the trees were in full-leaf. "If this is the new part of town, what the hell is the old bit like?"

"No idea." Sam was beginning to boot up the laptop, entering the details from his VPN token so that he could log on to the secure NCIS network. "I do know they fire a gun every day from the Castle though."

"Really?" Despite the tiredness that was beginning to seep in to him, Callen was intrigued, especially after all the red-tape they'd had to go through to get their weapons into the country. "Why?"

"Maybe they can't afford watches?" By Sam's reckoning it was about 2 a. real time and he was beginning to run on empty. "Okay, we're in." He scanned the files quickly. "One possible lead. Eric's sending an encrypted file."

"Great." Callen stifled a yawn and thought longingly of bed.

"Wait a minute." Sam stared at the screen incredulously. "You're not going to believe this."

"Try me."

"We've got an email. Sent from an IPhone."

"Wonders will never cease. Apple technology not only exists here, but it works too. You're going to want to send that story to the papers, Sam."

"Shut up and listen. An email from Hetty, inviting us to afternoon tea of all things."

Callen groaned loudly. "How come she's always one step ahead of us?"

"And how come we've got to drink tea? Deeks isn't going to be happy about that."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-five: You Must Never Break The Chain**

"Screw Deeks!" He couldn't help it, the words just came shooting out of his mouth before he could stop them.

A broad grin began to spread slowly across Sam's face. "No chance – Kensi's got that covered as we speak."

"So bite me."

"She's probably doing that too – only to Deeks, not you." Sam was enjoying this.

"Get over it, Sam."

It was bad enough knowing that Nico was half a world and at least three time zones away, but Callen didn't need Sam to keep reminding him that the other two members of the team were engaged in extra-curricular activities that were denied to him. He looked at his watch and saw there was nearly three hours until the meeting. Time enough for an hour's sleep and then a shower and change of clothes. And then maybe tonight he'd get a decent six hours straight sleep, even if he was a horny as hell. If all else failed, Callen would crack open the bottle of Scotch he'd bought in the airport tax-free shop. After all, when in Scotland…

* * *

><p>"Afternoon tea?" Kensi looked at Sam in complete astonishment. "What on earth do I wear?"<p>

"A tea dress?" Deeks called through from the bathroom. There was no separate shower, but there was an amazing cast iron, roll top bath, big enough for two and thoughtfully positioned so that the occupant had panoramic views over the city, down to the sea and then across to gently rolling hills. It was even long enough so that he could stretch out at full length and sink underneath the water, just like he could remember doing as a kid. He'd taken a note of the manufacturer and was already planning having a similar one shipped over to California.

"Ignore him," Kensi muttered under her breath, and started searching through her suitcase, knowing before she looked that she had nothing remotely resembling a smart afternoon dress.

"I usually do." Sam looked smart, but unfamiliar, in black dress pants, with a dark shirt and pullover. "And try to make him put on something decent, so that he doesn't disgrace us."

"I heard that!" The disembodied voice didn't sound notably upset. A few moments later, Deeks came padding through with a towel wrapped around his waist and dripping water everywhere.

"That's exactly what I mean. People like you give Americans a bad name."

There was more than a suspicion of a smirk on Deeks' face. "People like me are prepared for all eventualities."

Sam cast a disbelieving look at his small hold-all. "Yeah, right." Knowing Deeks, that meant a clean pair of jeans at the very most.

"Just wait." Deeks picked up his watch and his lips started to move silently.

_Five,four,three, two, one…_

A loud peal echoed through the house.

"That'll be the front door. Sam, seeing you're the only one decently dressed…?" Deeks raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"What did your last slave die of?"

"Under pay and over work. Just go, would you?"

Kensi saw the mutinous look on Sam's face. "Go on. Please? I'd like to get changed, but not with you standing around."

"How come you never say that to Deeks?" Sam asked as he left, having the definite impression he was being set up.

"Maybe because I don't just stand around?" Deeks sprawled luxuriously on the bed and smiled expectantly.

"You've got something up your sleeve, haven't you?" Kensi said suspiciously.

He looked wide-eyed and innocent, and failed to fool her for an instant. "Not possible. No sleeves. Look - no nothing. You can check if you don't believe me."

"Later." Much as she would have loved to whip off that towel and fling herself on top of him, Kensi was conscious that they had a meeting with Hetty in less than an hour.

Sam knocked on the door, but ruined the effect by walking straight in without waiting for answer. "Brooks Brothers?" he said suspiciously, holding out a garment bag.

"Brooks Brothers," Deeks confirmed. "Amazing what you can do with a phone and a credit card. Especially when they have a branch in the centre of town."

"You've probably had an account there since you were a kid, haven't you?" Sam knew you had to be a very good customer to get a delivery that quickly. He remembered that time he and Deeks had gone undercover – all those suits he had back in the Malibu house – more suits than most men would own in a lifetime.

"Possibly." He unzipped the bag and examined the contents carefully. "You want to let me get changed now?"

"I'll go – but you won't change, will you? You'll put on that suit, but you'll still be the same scruffy Deeks underneath it. More's the pity."

"That's why you love me, Sam. You try to hide it, but I know." He smiled beguilingly.

As the door closed to the sound of dramatic choking noises, Deeks dropped the towel and Kensi's eyes lit up like candles. "I don't know about Sam, but I know exactly why I love you."

* * *

><p>"You're late," Hetty said sternly. "When I say three thirty, I mean three thirty. The tea will probably be stewed by now." She beckoned a waiter over. "Another pot of Darjeeling, please."<p>

When Deeks opened his mouth to ask for coffee, Hetty fixed him with such a steely glare that he subsided without a word. She looked almost exactly the same, Callen noted, except that this time the tailored pant suit was shades of heather, in a light tweed mix and her scarf was fastened with a large cairngorm brooch. Clearly this was Hetty's attempt to fade into the background. She looked as unique and unforgettable as ever.

"Well, isn't this nice?"

That wasn't quite the word Callen would have chosen for their encounter. He looked around and realised that Hetty had chosen her venue well: the Palm Court of a large hotel was so public place that it was the last place where you would expect old secrets to come bursting forth. Knowing Hetty, it was a safe bet she'd gambled on just such a thing. Well she was going to be sadly disappointed. Callen fully intended to make sure of that. Somewhere in the background, the bright, glittering notes of a harp added to the unreal atmosphere. Callen took the damask napkin and placed it carefully on his lap before helping himself to a sandwich. He watched as Hetty poured herself some more tea and regarded him gravely over the rim of the cup.

"We were worried," he said flatly.

"I wasn't. I was unconscious," Deeks said angrily. Kensi placed her hand warningly on his knee. "You went off and left me in that car. If Callen hadn't turned up, I would have burned to death."

"But Mr Callen did "turn up", didn't he?" Hetty appeared quite unconcerned, but under the tablecloth, her hand was tightly clenched. "And you appear none the worse for your ordeal." She peered anxiously at him. "You are alright, aren't you?" She sounded genuinely worried.

_You bloody woman. One minute you've got me as mad as hell, the next minute you switch right around and actually look concerned, like you care or something and I feel guilty. Why do I care about you, Hetty – after all you've done to me and my family? Oh wait – that's right – you're my family too. Which makes it worse._

"He was out cold for over half an hour," Sam said accusingly.

"I thought he was dead." Kensi wasn't about to let Hetty off the hook quite so easily. "For over an hour, I thought Marty was dead. Do you have any idea how I felt?" She leant across the table. "I wanted to die too, Hetty. That's how I felt. And you just drove off, didn't you? For all you knew, they could both have died back there."

_And when I found out what you'd done, I wanted to kill you Hetty – for walking away from your agent – your great-nephew – and for letting me think he was dead._

"Don't you think that wasn't preying on my mind? But I had to trust that I had trained my agents better than that. And, in turn, you will have to trust me."

_I know it's asking a lot, but you see – I trust you. You are among the very few people in the world I __**can**__ trust._

"And then the next day, we nearly got blown up," Callen informed her. "Sam, Nate and I. This time in San Diego. Two explosions in the space of just a few hours. And don't insult me by saying it was just a co-incidence."

"You underestimate me, Mr Callen. If those attacks had been successful, there would have been five dead NCIS operatives. Including myself. Makes you think, doesn't it? Who would do a thing like that?" Hetty's eyes twinkled mischievously as she helped herself to a scone. "Or were the real targets the people with connections to the _Catena_ and Sam and Nate were merely collateral damage? You did find the file," she added anxiously.

"We found the file." Sam wasn't quite sure if he should be offended at being described as collateral damage. Still, it was better than being dead.

"Good." Hetty placed her cup carefully in its saucer. "That saves a lot of awkward explanations."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-six: You Must Never Break The Chain**

_A time for confessions and realisations as things start to build to a climax..._

* * *

><p>For the first time, Callen realised that Hetty had a weakness: there were some things that she could not bring herself to talk about. Was it because she regretted her decisions, or perhaps because she found it hard to live with the consequences of these decisions?<p>

Deeks couldn't believe what he was hearing, nor could he hold back his anger. "Awkward explanations? You seriously think that you can say that and then just move on, like you've drawn some nice, neat little line underneath everything? Callen finds out you've known about his background all along, and conveniently forgotten to tell him because it's **awkward**?"

"As I told you once before – Mr Callen's story is his business and no-one else's."

"We're making it our business." Sam regarded her implacably.

Kensi backed them up. "You owe us an explanation, after all we've been through. It's the least you could do."

"I've got nothing to hide, Hetty. Have you? So tell us why you've brought us here. We need to know." Callen was the last to speak, but he knew his was the important voice – he was letting his team get closer to him than anyone ever had in the past.

For some unfathomable reason Hetty began to smile. "One day, possibly sooner than I would like to think, I won't be with NCIS any longer. And now I know that I can go off on that world cruise, or ride in the foothills of the Himalayas or maybe just play the slots in the casinos in Los Vegas and not have to worry about what will happen, because you and your team will do just fine."

_I have created my own legacy._

She paused for a moment, and took a deep breath before she was able to continue. "I always knew I'd created a strong team, but I never really knew how coherent an entity you really were until now. You've coped with everything that has been thrown at you, and it's only made you stronger." She laced the fingers of her hands together and surveyed each one of the individually. "My own chain of colleagues won't last much longer – we're all getting older. It's good to know that one day I can retire secure in the knowledge there are still people with some integrity left in the business. You've made your own chain and I hope it will prove as strong as enduring as my own has been."

_They'll be able to continue when I am gone. They are strong enough. And maybe they will be able to have what I never managed – a life outside the demands of work. I'd like to hope they can manage that._

"I'm here because of your chain," Callen said. "I owe you my life." In the end, he realised that was all he needed to know – all that he had ever needed to know. Everything else was just incidental. He was who he was, because of Hetty.

"Thanks," Deeks said quietly, staring at the ground and refusing to meet her eyes. His emotions were still completely confused – he knew the debt he owed to Hetty and her chain, but at the same time, he couldn't help thinking that she had set the whole chain of events into motion. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he kept thinking that if only Hetty had ever recruited his father, then maybe his family wouldn't have imploded. And then, just when he was starting to go down that long road to the hollow pit of resentment, he felt Kensi squeeze his knee and he looked up and saw she was smiling at him. She was his life now- he could not change the past, but he could accept it and move on. If things had been different, he would never have met Kensi, would not have her in his life right now. "All things happen for a reason, I guess."

"Indeed they do. It's just that sometimes the pattern makes it hard for us to understand. It's only now that I've got some distance that I am able to see things clearly." For the first time since the meeting had begun Hetty was able to relax. "At first, I thought that I was being set-up with the rumours about Camp Pendleton. Then I worried that my old chain of friends was being compromised and their lives put in danger. It took the attacks on my agents before I could see the whole picture."

"Which you're now going to share with us?" Deeks raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

"Of course." Hetty was smooth, very smooth indeed. She could hit her stride as surely as any sprinter. "To put it bluntly, I believe that NCIS has been infiltrated. But this isn't the place to discuss such matters, is it?"

Nobody knew how her mind worked better than Callen. "You've got a more secure location? Perhaps the home of a friend?" He would give a good deal to meet another member of the _Catena._

"One I know I can trust." For just a second, Hetty hesitated. "I do appreciate this – everything you've all done. More than I can ever adequately put into words."

"We owe you." They'd all been good, in their own fields, but Hetty had recognised that together they would be so much more than the sum of their parts. "You made us a team: you made us who we are." Whatever else happened, he wouldn't forget that. Callen realised that Hetty was probably the most important person in his life. Apart from Nico, of course. Only that was different. Hetty was his past – Nico was his future. And somehow they overlapped at the moment, which was peculiar, for two more disparate people it would be hard to imagine. There was no reason at all why they should get on so well together, and yet they did. Sometimes there was no point in trying to make sense of things – you just had to accept that things were the way they were.

"Thank you." For once, words failed her and it was difficult to see clearly through the shimmer of tears. Despite everything, all the heartaches, all the sacrifices, it had all been worth it for this one moment. It took a few moments to regain her composure, and then Hetty led them out of the hotel, out onto the street where a limousine stood waiting.

"Nice car. Are you driving?"

"My friend runs a country house hotel some way down the coast. It's very private and rather exclusive, so her guests expect certain standards, including a driver." For which she was very grateful. Yesterday Hetty had found herself inadvertently driving on the right hand side of the road, which of course was the _wrong_ side of the road. Luckily, there had been no other drivers in the immediate vicinity.

"I could get used to this." Sam opened the door and stepped inside, immediately noticing the discreet drinks cabinet and the privacy screen that separated them from the driver. Everything seemed very civilised in Scotland, he thought. And Edinburgh was nothing like _Trainspotting_, which was a considerable relief.

"Make mine a neat Laphroig." Hetty felt she deserved a drink.

"Drinking on duty?"

"Do I have to remind you that I'm on leave?" she replied tartly. "And I never like to drink alone."

"I just want to get the taste of that tea out of my mouth," Deeks confessed, accepting a tumbler, but diluting his drink with water.

Kensi sat back and watched as the honey coloured buildings slipped by and the sparkling sea grew closer. She sensed that some new corner had been turned, but she was still uneasy. There were still too many unanswered questions and she was weary of never quite knowing who she could or could not trust. Somehow, things were easier when you were just busting a gut trying to track down an arms dealer, but when there was a personal involvement, things became so much more complicated. At least she knew where she stood with her own family – her father had been an exemplary Marine, and sooner or later her mother would be reconciled to the fact that Kensi was going to marry Marty. Knowing how stubborn Allison Blye could be, that would probably take some time, but that was alright. They had all the time in the world. She closed her eyes as the car travelled along a winding road, leading steadily towards a white house, nestled amidst dark pines on a finger of land that stretched out into the sea.

* * *

><p><em>You just know something bad is going to happen, don't you? Or is that just me?<em>


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-seven: Listen to the wind blow**

The wind was starting to rise as they exited the car, blowing straight in from the North Sea and bringing with it the fresh tang of salt water.

"We're rather exposed here, but the view is worth it." An older woman, with straight white hair that looked as if it had once been blonde, was walking toward them holding her hands out in welcome. "Hetty: it's been too long. And yet you look exactly the same."

"You always knew how to say the right things, Rowena." Hetty smiled and then did the most extraordinary thing - she hugged the woman. "You, on the other hand, just get better looking each time we meet." It was true – the other woman seemed to shine with an inner serenity and happiness. "I'm beginning to suspect you have a picture stored in that attic of yours." She nodded to the house built of pale grey stone, where trails of rambling roses clambered up towards a gently pitched roof.

"If there is, it's buried amidst so much detritus no-one will ever find it." Rowena laughed and took hold of Hetty's hands, holding them tightly. "It's been too long – we shouldn't leave things so long again." They started to walk towards the open door, leaving the others to following their wake.

"No, we shouldn't."

_Who knows how much longer any of us have left? Already there are times when I feel that I have lived too long, seen too much and watched too many people die. Maybe I should have followed your example and moved to the edge of the world, and lived where I can watch the sun rise and set, the tides roll in and out and just let the seasons dictate my life? You've found your retreat against all the evil in the world, and I almost envy you that._

But it took courage to make such a huge move, to step away from everything that had defined your life for over forty years and Hetty knew that she was not ready to make that leap. For now, it was easier just to leave things the way they were. Of course, Rowena had that singular, matchless blessing that had always been denied to Hetty – the love of a man who had also given up his old life, so that they could grow old together.

"Your team?" Rowena smiled at them, standing slightly to one side, not wanting to intrude, yet certain they were here for some purpose. By now, they knew Hetty well enough to let matters unfold in their own way. Doubtless she had a plan.

"My team," Hetty confirmed. If it had been anyone else, Callen would have said that there was a note of pride in her voice, but as this was Hetty, he had to concede that is was probably just a statement of fact and nothing else. Because Hetty would only have the very best working for her, that stood to reason.

"Hetty's told me a lot about you all." Rowena ushered them into a room with panoramic views from east to west, where the clear light from the open expanse of sea and sky seemed to bounce around the walls. "All of it was highly complimentary. But of course, I remember you." She smiled at Callen. "Even as a small child, you had an extraordinary presence. I never met such a self-contained boy, before or since. Despite all the years, I think I still would have recognised you." She took a deep breath and stood looking at him, with a faint yearning in her eyes. "I've missed you so much. We had some lovely times together. Do you remember at all?"

The memories were faint, but they were there, pushing at the corners of his mind, trying to come back into focus. "We were at a beach?" he volunteered. "And you had a kite?" She was younger then, and rather beautiful, and he had felt safe when she was around. Callen remembered thinking she was the most wonderful person in the world and how he had wanted to be with her always. Only she wasn't called Rowena then.

"It was your kite. I bought it for you and we would to go down to the beach early in the mornings, before there were many people around and we would fly the kite together. Sometimes, we would stay there for hours. I used to tell you that maybe one day we could fly away, just like the kite."

Rowena thought back to the time when she had managed to get close to the people who were looking after him, and they had been only too glad to have the troublesome child taken off their hands for a few hours. It had taken her weeks of innocent outings before she had felt it was safe to make a move. During the entire period, she had been entirely alone, exposed and in danger, yet she had been determined, convinced she was his only hope.

"And then one day, we went down to the beach, just like we always did – only this time we didn't go back." She looked at him. "I've thought about you so often, over the years, hoping you were happy – that you're life turned out well." He voice held a plaintive note, almost as if she was pleading to be told that she had done the right thing.

"I've had a good life," Callen confirmed. "I'm very happy." He looked at her and remembered a young woman who used to hug him, and praise him and tell him that she loved him. She was the only person in his life who had done that and he had loved her with every fibre of his being. "I adored you," he said quietly. "You were the only good thing in my life and I would have gone anywhere with you."

"So I did the right thing?" The question had been gnawing at Rowena for years. She had deliberately built up a relationship with the child, only to have to deliver him over to another member of the Catena, and know that he would be handed down the chain until he was safely given a new identity and could disappear from sight. It had been necessary, but she knew that it had also been terribly cruel, ripping him away from the only semblance of security he had in his young life.

"You did. I don't think I would have had much of a life otherwise." She'd given him freedom, probably risking her own to do just that.

Hetty sat in a chair by the window, watching the sea as it started to get whipped up by the prevailing winds. She was trying to stay unobtrusive, but equally she was conscious that she needed this validation as much as Rowena did. So far, things were going well, better than she had dared to dream that they would.

Rowena turned to Deeks. "You, I would have known anywhere. But you must be used to people telling you that you are the spit and image of your father?"

He looked confused. "Most people don't make the connection. I've gone by Deeks for over ten years now."

_Most people who know me from way back know not to talk about my Dad. What can you say about someone who threatened his own kid with a shotgun and was lead off in handcuffs screaming "I hate you"?_

"You've not told him, have you?" Rowena's eyes flashed dangerously. "Hetty – you promised me. You gave me your word."


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-eight: down comes the night**

"This is your story, Rowena. And there have been opportunities for you to tell it over the years. Many, many opportunities." Hetty pursed her lips together, making herself bite back the retorts that were already forming. She'd been dreading this for years, had counselled against it, but there were days when it seemed like she was carrying around this huge bag full of squabbling, querulous cats, all of whom were demanding to be let out so that they could create chaos. And today was the day when one was already poking its curious head out of the sack and looking around with interest.

"You were one of the _Catena_ who got me back when I was kidnapped?" Deeks ventured. He wasn't quite sure why that would make either Hetty or Rowena so furious.

"I was. At the time I was working in the US as a cultural attaché. I'm sure I don't have to explain what that is a euphemism for, do I?" In an instant, Rowena seemed to have changed – she was holding herself a little more erect, like a woman who has put on a new pair of shoes and is enjoying the effect they give her. "Good, because you'll appreciate that I'm still bound by the terms of the Official Secrets Act."

Callen had always loved that terminology – like there were two kinds of covert activity: the operations that were officially secret, and those that were unofficially secret. He had always pictured some faceless man in a grey suit studiously categorising intelligence activity and dividing them into two piles… Only the Brits could come up with something like that. He wondered which sub-set this particular meeting would fall into.

"You were already on our radar, because of your father's agreement with the CIA, and of course Joe was living with your family. So the Brandels were not exactly unknown to British Intelligence."

Deeks looked at her with a guarded expression on his face.

_Now that is seriously creepy. I was four years old and there were already intelligence files on me?_

"Your father wasn't a bad man, you do realise that? In the end, he was more sinned against than sinning." Rowena shut her eyes briefly, remembering how she had learnt of Jack Brandel's mishandling, his subsequent fall from the grace and the way the US authorities had banded together to ensure he was swiftly abandoned and left to hang. Once he was of no further use, he was of no further interest and the change in the political climate, the disintegration of the old Soviet Union and emergence of a new world order meant that people like Jack Brandel were regarded as nothing more than quaint remnants from the past.

"My father's dead. He's been dead to me since I was eleven years old. He never bothered to even send me a lousy postcard after he got out of jail. So why should I care?"

_Except for the fact that I never stopped loving him, despite everything. I never stopped hoping that one day he'd appear back in my life. Especially after Mom died. _

"Your father got out of jail after five years. He deserved a second chance."

"He died in some stupid car crash two years later. If he'd wanted a second chance, all he had to do was pick up the phone. He had more than enough time to do that." Deeks took a step forward. "Why are you doing this? What's the point in going over old ground? It's not going to change anything. I've got over him – I've moved on and made a new life."

_Last time I saw Dad, I was a little kid called Mikey Brandel. Now I'm a grown man called Marty Deeks and I'm going to get married._

"I thought you American's all wanted to get closure?"

"I closed that book a long time ago."

"Maybe you closed it too soon, before reading the final chapter?" Rowena was aware that Hetty was sitting staring studiously out of the window. "The _Catena_ helped your father too. We arranged for a new identity and got him out of the country. Because we knew that as long as he was Jack Brandel and living in the United States, he was still going to be vulnerable."

"But he still died."

_In the end, they all died: first Chris, next Mom and then Dad. Even if I didn't discover that until Hetty told me._ Deeks could remember lying in hospital and finally learning the truth from Hetty and thinking that maybe he could start to move on, now he knew the spectre of his father was finally put to rest. It had almost been a relief to know that Jack was dead – that way he didn't have to ask why his father never bothered to get into touch. And now this woman was saying that there his father had been spirited away to lead a new life somewhere else? It didn't make sense, but it really didn't matter, because at the end of the day Jack Brandel was still dead.

"Don't believe everything you read in a file. Hetty learned that."

Hetty could bite her tongue no longer. "I was not involved in any of this, Marty. Please believe me – when I showed you that file in the hospital, I had no reason to believe the information was not genuine. Rowena and her friends did an excellent job." Hetty had been furious to learn how she had been duped and the transatlantic telephone call had been particularly vituperative.

Deeks had reached the end of his tether. "Okay – you want to tell me what the hell is going on here?"


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-nine: down comes the night**

_Yes – it is the weekend and therefore another update!_

* * *

><p>"Your father – Jack Brandel?" Rowena looked down at her hands, and fidgeted with the rings. "I fell in love with him."<p>

_He was all alone in a strange country, his wife and elder son were dead, and your uncles had made it very clear at the time of the trial that Jack was to stay well away from his family, that he'd done enough damage already. He contacted them again when he was released from prison, wanting to see you, but his brothers were adamant - he was to stay away from you. They said you'd had enough traumas in your life and that he would only make things worse. That almost destroyed him – the knowledge that you would think he didn't care enough to want to see you. But despite everything that he'd been thorough, he was warm and funny and brave. I couldn't help myself. He was so easy to love._

Kensi knew just how Rowena felt and how easy it was to find yourself head over heels in love with a Brandel and not be able to do anything about it. After all, she'd never planned to fall in love with Marty, that had been the last thing on her mind. At first, she hadn't even liked him very much, had regarded him as an unwelcome and unnecessary addition to the team. But all the time, right from the first moment she had seen him in the Blood and Guts Warriors' gym, she had been fighting her attraction to him, until it got to the point where it was pointless to even try to deny it. Maybe the Brandel males just exerted a fatal attraction to women that made it impossible to resist their charms?

"That's nice." Deeks kept his voice neutral, trying to feign disinterest. "And did he leave you, just like he left us?" This time there was no disguising the bitterness.

"No, he didn't." Rowena lifted her head. "He married me." She looked him straight in the eyes.

"I'm a bit too old to need a new Mommy." Deeks turned on his heel. "I'm sorry if he hurt you," he added politely, aware that he'd been unconscionably rude and knowing none of this was Rowena's fault. After all, he knew what it was like to fall in love with the wrong woman – or even his best friend's wife. Maybe it was something in the genes and he was pre-programmed to be a selfish bastard?

_Rowena seems like a nice woman and it's not her fault that she fell in love with the wrong man. But I don't need any more of this. Kensi's my family now. Along with Caroline and Joe. And Hetty, I suppose. I don't need anybody else._

"He's never hurt me. And I know he never would. Your father's a good man. He makes me very happy indeed."

That stopped Deeks dead in his tracks. He turned around and looked at her, utter incredulity mixing with a tremulous hope. "What are you saying?" he asked suspiciously, afraid he was reading too much into this.

"Your father has never stopped loving you. He's waited a long time for this day." Rowena managed a watery smile.

Callen had moved across to join Hetty at the window, where raindrops were starting to batter against the glass. Outside the sea looked grey, cold and particularly inhospitable. "I can see why you didn't want to be the one to announce that little bombshell," he said in an undertone.

"Exactly." Hetty's lips didn't even move, which was quite remarkable for someone with such impeccable diction. She'd made unpleasant announcements in her time and tackled those with the utmost professionalism, but this was entirely different. She knew she could not have broken this news, because she was aware how it would impact on Deeks.

"He's alive?" Deeks was rooted to the spot and couldn't have moved even if there was a force8 earthquake. The atmosphere in the room was as charged as if there was an impending storm, instead of just a summer rain shower.

Kensi couldn't bear to look at him when he said that, just hearing the emotion in his voice was enough. She could remember the stories he had told her of missing his father, of how he would go and bury his face in the left-behind clothing and try to comfort himself that way. She knew exactly how deep the scars went and that for all his bravado, how Marty had never stopped missing his father. But it wasn't her place to say anything; all she could do was to slip her hand into his and squeeze his fingers to let him she was there, that she was with him and that she would always be with him, no matter what.

"I never saw that one coming, did you?" Sam asked rhetorically. "I must be losing my touch."

"You're getting old," Callen informed him, conveniently ignoring the fact he was older still. "It's probably the onset of premature senility."

"Yeah right. And you guessed all along?" He looked at Callen curiously. "Did you? How could you possibly work that one out?"

Callen just gave him an enigmatic look. It was good to keep them guessing, even Sam, who knew him better than anyone else, with the possible exception of Nico. And there was a thought – how the hell was he going to tell her about this little development and stop her from jumping onto the first available plane?

Rowena didn't trust her own voice. All she could do was to nod and gesture to the door where a tall man stood waiting and wondering.

"Dad?" It didn't sound like his own voice, Deeks thought, it sounded like the voice of someone much younger, someone who hadn't lived through the nightmares of a family that destroyed itself from within. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, until he heard that familiar voice.

"Mikey. It's been a long time, kiddo." Jack Brandel felt as if his heart was going to burst as he walked into the same room as his son for the first time in nearly 20 years.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty: down comes the night II**

_In loving memory of RTLK 1921-2008_

* * *

><p>His son stood stock still and simply looked at him, and for Jack the years completely melted away and instead of a tall, confident young man, he could see the boy with fear in his eyes, and that image was replaced by another, this time of a child who ran to greet his father, holding out his arms and then screaming with delight as he was tossed high into the air.<p>

_Oh sweet Jesus, where have all the years gone? I've lost nearly twenty years of your life._

The full force of these lonely, wasted years hit Jack Brandel like a wrecking ball. How could he possibly expect to be able to rewind time and start again? This was his son standing before him, but he was a complete stranger. And yet it was like looking at himself thirty years ago.

"Hi, Dad." There was so much Marty wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask, but the words died in his throat.

_You haven't changed much, except you've got older. Funny, but I never thought of that. I always think of you frozen in time, looking just like you did before things started to go wrong. Stupid of me, I guess._

For the longest moment father and son stood looking warily at one another, neither man sure of what to do or say next. Rowena took the opportunity to tactfully usher her guests out of the room, feeling that a little privacy was called for. She knew how much Jack had missed his son and how much he was placing on this reunion. Plus, there were a few things that still had to be discussed, namely the real and present danger that NCIS was about to be brought down from within. That couldn't be allowed to become subsumed by family business.

Kensi realised that someone had to break the impasse. Still holding tightly onto Marty's fingers, she stepped forward and held out her other hand. "Marty's told me so much about you." The family resemblance struck her immediately, but it went deeper than being tall and slim, with blond hair and blue eyes. There were lots of people answering that general description, but something marked these two out as father and son.

A brief expression of anguish crossed Jack's face as he took hold of her hand and held onto it as if it were some sort of lifeline.

_Is this what Marty will look like in thirty years time? I hope so… Jack's still a handsome man. And it's easy to see where Marty gets his hair from. I'm glad Jack's still got all his hair. It would have been a bit of a shock if he'd been bald. And it's rather cool that way his hair's going silver-blonde, rather than golden. Oh God – this is so awkward. I just wish one of them would say something. I'm going to kick Marty if he doesn't say something soon, Normally you can't shut him up._

The silence stretched out across the minutes. Father and son stood a few feet apart, just looking at one another. Someone had to make the first move, and Kensi realised that someone was going to be her. Otherwise this was going to become ridiculous. She knew how much they both had vested in this. If it came right down to, she wasn't exactly a detached observer either, considering Jack would become her father-in-law. But something had to be done. Kensi brought her hands together in front of her body and by doing so, brought Marty and Jack that much closer to one another

"Marty – your father screwed up big-time, but he's sorry and he needs you to forgive him. Jack: your son can be a stupid, stubborn bastard at times, but I know how much he loves you. And you both need to know that you can't just stand there with these expressions on your faces forever. Someone has to make the first move." She placed their hands together and stepped back. "Alright. That's it. I've done all I can do and I've done all I'm going to do. It's up to you now. You've both been given a second chance – so damn well make the most of it. Because I would give anything to have my dad in this room, even for just five minutes."

"That's one hell of a good woman you've got there, son." Jack Brandel grinned appreciatively

Marty returned the smile. "I know. I'm a lucky man."

_What the hell would I do without you, Kensi?_

"It's good to see you, son. I've missed you."

_Oh my God, I've missed so much of your life. How can I ever make up for all the wrong I've done to you?_

"Missed you too, Dad." And Marty wanted to do something – to shake the man's hand, or maybe even hug him – but he couldn't. For some reason his limbs refused to move.

_This is unreal. It's like I'm in a dream and any minute now I'm going to wake up. I can't quite believe you're here. And I missed you so much that it physically hurt. I used to go and sit on the floor of your closet, surrounded by all your clothes and I would pretend you were just away on business and that you'd be coming home soon. And then one day, I got back from school and the closet was empty and it was like you'd died. That was the day I realised you were never coming back and that nothing was ever going to be same again. _

His father was talking now, trying to put things right, and Marty wanted to tell him there was no need, that just being here with him was enough. But he realised that Jack needed to say his piece, to try to atone for the past.

"There's so many things I wish I could go back and do differently. But most of all, I need you to know that I never hated you. Not ever. That was just the drugs talking. I've wished I could take that back so many times." Jack stepped forward and bridged the gap that had existed for so long, reaching out and placing his free hand on his son's shoulder and letting it rest there for a moment before drawing him into a embrace. "I'm so sorry, Mikey, I'm so sorry for everything. And I love you."

"I know, Dad." At last it seemed so natural and so easy to put his arms around his father and hug him, hug him like he would never let go. "I love you too."

_I'd forgotten how good this feels. The last time we hugged, I barely came up to his chest. Now we're the same height. And oh my God, he still wears the same aftershave._

It was that small detail that did it, the simple remembered scent from his childhood that brought everything flooding back: all the memories he'd kept battened down in the deepest recesses of his soul. Until that moment Marty Deeks had not realised just how much he had missed his father and how very much he still loved him – had always loved him. It took a while before he could talk, and even then it was impossible to put into words what he was feeling. So in the end he contended himself with saying "It's good to have you back, Dad."

"It's good to be back." Jack had waited so patiently for years, content to survive with the barest details of his son's life, not wanting to hurt him all over again. But recent events had forced him to reveal himself and by some miracle, he'd been accepted. He wasn't sure Hetty would forgive him so easily though, because from the look in her eye he suspected she had reserved him a fire-side seat in the seventh circle of hell.

* * *

><p><em>It's Father's Day tomorrow – so this is dedicated to all our fathers, whether they are with us or have gone ahead. And in especial memory of my darling daddy, RTLK, still missed every single day. Like Kensi, I would give anything to have you back for just five minutes.<em>


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty One: down comes the night III**

_in which all becomes clear..._

_I was really annoyed that Leon Vance's creation of the whole Operation Frankenstein programme wasn't dealt with more thoroughly in NCIS - he should have been held directly accountable. So this story goes some way to right that wrong_.

* * *

><p>"We'd better get down to business," Hetty said. "I fear the clock is against us on this one and time may be running out. For some months now, I have had concerns about the way some operations within government agencies have been run. In my opinion, these called into question the entire systems of ethics and morality underlying the governance of our country. It has made me question everything I have spent my entire life working for. Operation Frankenstein was one such instance. I believe Eric sent you an encrypted file earlier today, Mr Hannah?"<p>

Sam nodded, remembering the download he'd accessed earlier in the day. It seemed like several lifetimes ago. "I've not had a chance to use the dual code encryption on it yet." Man, that was always a pig of a procedure to go through.

"You'll find that it makes unpleasant reading" Hetty had always been good at understatements.

_To think that such a thing could be officially sanctioned. Why did nobody speak up? When did the world become so mad that my own country is deliberately brain-washing its own service personnel and turning them into something no better than a dog that is trained to kill an intruder? It's against everything any decent person would find acceptable._

"It's become common knowledge across NCIS that an Operation Frankenstein operative was also the notorious Point to Point serial killer," Callen observed. "And that EJ Barratt was less than successful in her attempts to solve the case." Other than the name, nobody had any idea what Operation Frankenstein involved. That fact had been locked behind so many layers of security it was impenetrable.

"Ah yes, wasn't that strange? Such an able young woman, so confident and self-assured. I hear she became Director Vance's new golden girl – and yet she failed so utterly. It wasn't until Gibbs managed to become involved in the case that anything happened. Most peculiar. But then, I've never believed in co-incidences." Hetty's voice suddenly became cold. "Operation Frankenstein was misguided from the moment of its conception. In essence, it was a program to create super assassins from serving military personnel who could then be utilised by the CIA. It was ill-conceived from the start, and had disastrous consequences. As you are well-aware. A man went rogue… and death resulted. It was not exactly unforeseeable. I would go so far as to say that it was entirely predictable."

Callen digested this unpleasant information. "I still don't see how it involves NCIS. Unless I'm missing something?"

"He killed at least three NCIS personnel," Sam reminded him. "Including Mike Franks. That was a crying shame. The guy was a legend."

"It involves NCIS because the man who thought up the whole fiasco was none other than Director Leon Vance. And because the man who signed off on the operation and took direct control of its implementation was the SecNav. Two men who had very good reasons not to want any of the true facts to escape into the public domain. Especially if it became known that the CIA were then tacitly permitting these trained assassins to effectively become mercenaries – guns for hire." She had no doubt that they would disclaim all responsibility, but Hetty knew exactly where the blame lay. And that knowledge was a dangerous thing to possess. It made her a target.

Sam felt his blood run cold, and it wasn't just because the ambient temperature in Scotland appeared to hover somewhere just above freezing, even in the middle of summer. "I've always hated spooks," he muttered and then looked across at Hetty in considerable embarrassment. "No offense meant."

"None taken. Given the facts of this latest fiasco, I'm inclined to agree with you."

"EJ Barratt." Callen was thinking it through. "So she was assigned to the case to sweep everything under the carpet – make sure that the true facts never came to the surface and the guilty parties could continue on with their reputations intact?"

"Precisely. She was brought back from Rota on the express orders of SecNav, despite her inexperience and the fact she owed her position entirely to nepotism. Director Vance agreed to this, and he must have known what the true intentions were. But then, he had a vested interest in making sure that he was not publically named as the man who started this whole nightmare off. Shortly afterwards, I managed to persuade the authorities to have Leon confined to Camp Pendleton after he yet again demonstrated his unsuitability to hold office."

Sam allowed himself a small smile, remembering the series of events that had led to Vance's departure. Okay, the bit about Deeks nearly being beaten to death wasn't funny, but that punch he'd thrown… It was possibly the best punch he'd ever landed in his entire life. What made it even sweeter was that Vance professed to be something of a boxing aficionado, and yet he'd never even seen it coming.

"Unfortunately, things were moving on in his absence and it became obvious that there was now a new move to remove me from my position by any means possible. Hence the recent series of unfortunate events we've all experienced. And now, here we all are and finally you know as much as I do."

Hetty leaned back in her chair and saw that the rainstorm had passed and the sky was a pale blue, suffused with the clear cold light unique to this part of the world. At this time of year, the hours of daylight were almost impossibly long so far north, and it would not start to become dark until after ten in the evening. Outside the window the beach stretched eastwards in a crescent of pale sand, and she could see Deeks walking slowly along the seashore, a study in monochrome with blindingly white shirt and dark trousers, relieved only by the bright gold of his hair.

"So why are you the key to this, Hetty? I'm guessing it's not just because you've uncovered the facts behind Operation Frankenstein, no matter how badly they reflect on certain people. And why have Deeks and I got involved in all this?" Callen had a bad feeling in his gut that was sending out danger signals.

Hetty looked at the clock and wondered if she could allow herself another whisky. The tea Rowena had provided before leaving them in private was very refreshing, but right now she could do with something a little stronger.

"Because I can remember SecNav when he was still in the CIA, and was scheming to use a child as a political pawn and was willing to see that child die in the furtherance of his career. That's not the sort of information he would wish to be made public."

_I'll bet it isn't. So he's one of the guys who spun a dice and decided to screw my life up, was he? I'll remember that_. Callen's face was grim.

"And then later, when he was controlling Jack Brandel, he first of all had his child kidnapped and then later abandoned the man when his own career took a different direction, and we all know how that turned out. In short, I can amply demonstrate that the man has a history of making unsound decisions that not only place his country at risk, but also that he has a wilful disregard for human life. The final nail in his coffin was when he assigned his niece to the Point to Point killer case. EJ was never meant to solve the case and that decision meant the deaths of more people can be laid at his door. It was no real surprise when she walked out of the Navy Yard and promptly went off the radar. That young woman knows which side her bread is buttered on. I've no doubt she has friends in high places who will protect her, just as they have protected her uncle. I've also got my suspicions that she's been working for the CIA all along, following in her uncles' footsteps."

"Wait a minute. You said EJ had disappeared, Hetty? But she met us at the airport this morning."

"Shit!" Callen leapt to his feet. He should have listened to his gut, should have trusted his instincts. "It's a trap. EJ's got us all here, in one place, exactly where she wants us."

* * *

><p><em>And now things are about to get REALLY exciting! And the evil plot bunny is whispering in me ear and reminding me that so far this story has not featured much on the maim front. This wrong may well be addressed in chapters to follow.<em>


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty Two: down comes the night IV**

He'd always gone to the beach whenever he needed to think, and if ever a man had needed to think, that man was Marty Deeks, newly coming to terms with the fact that the father he had believed to be dead was actually alive and living in Scotland. Mind you, right now he wasn't too sure if he was Marty Deeks, or Mikey Brandel or maybe he was just some fucked- up individual walking along a beach with the freezing cold waters of the North Sea lapping at his feet. As beaches went, this one was pretty nice – a broad stretch of smooth, pale golden sand, a host of mussel and scallop shells, and of course the ocean. Only it wasn't the ocean, he reminded himself, it was the sea. Not much use for surfing, by the looks of things, but then you couldn't have everything. And boy, did he know that was true. Everytime he'd thought he'd got it made, something happened to change everything. Marty jammed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and continued walking eastwards, away from the house, trying to sort out his thoughts, while the sea pounded against the shore and overhead the gulls called to one another as they wheeled in the sky.

_He's not dead. All this time, and he's still alive. All the years we could have spent together-gone. If I thought my family was screwed before, what the hell does that make us now? We give new meaning to the word "dysfunctional". And where the hell do I go from here? He can't come back to the States, and while it's nice enough to visit here, I'm not going to move across. And I know he's my father, and I love him – but I don't know him. We've each got our own lives and there's not much more than memories to hold us together._

Picking up a stone, he hefted it thoughtfully and then flung it over-arm, watching as it flew through the air before falling into the water with a satisfying deep noise. One thing was certain – he couldn't keep walking forever, even if the beach did lead tantalisingly onwards. That was the great thing about beaches – they always lead you somewhere else. But grown men couldn't walk away from their problems, any more than they could expect daddy to make everything better. It was awfully tempting though…

"Marty!"

The cry was faint, almost carried away by the fresh wind that was picking up. He turned around and saw Kensi running towards him, carrying her shoes in one hand and a bottle in the other.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked breathlessly, seeing the way the wind was plastering his shirt against his body. Somewhere in his deliberations it had become untucked and the wind was tugging at his shirt-tails. The jacket had long been discarded, along with his shoes and sock.

"Not really." Kensi had picked up a waxed jacket, presumably from Rowena, and was huddling inside it, trying to shelter from the elements. "Too busy thinking, I guess." Only now he came to think of it, he couldn't actually feel his feet. Paddling in the ice-cold sea water would do that every time. Marty wriggled his toes experimentally in the sand and was relieved to see that although they were slightly blue, none of them had actually fallen off.

"And?" She tilted her head to one side enquiringly.

"Not quite got there yet," he confessed and then eyed up the bottle. "Is that brandy?"

Kensi grinned. "I thought you could probably do with something to drink. So could I, come to that."

"I knew there was a reason I fell in love with you." Marty took the bottle from her, unscrewed the cap and took a healthy swallow. It felt obscenely good, warming him from within. "Do you want some? Your hands are freezing, by the way." He took hold of them and rubbed them gently, trying to get some warmth back into her.

"It's going to be alright. You do know that, don't you?" Kensi took a generous slug of brandy and gasped as the aromas filled her mouth.

"I suppose so. But it's hard…"

"I know. And I think it's hard for your Dad too. He looked devastated when you said you were going out for a walk."

"I had to get out. At least he knew I was coming here – but this was all sprung on me." Marty pulled away and stood staring out to see. "I don't know how I feel or what I'm supposed to feel. I don't know anything anymore. I don't even know who I am any more."

"You're the man I love. Nothing's changed there. And you're the man I'm going to marry." Kensi looked around and smiled. "On a beach like this, but in California, where the climate isn't designed for polar bears. Mind you, if I was pushed, I guess I'd marry you here."

"The bride wore thermals?"

"Just think how much fun you could have peeling all the layers off. Very slowly. All that expectation and then the revelation." She tugged at his hand. "Come on, we really should get back. They'll be wondering where we are."

"Knowing Callen, he'll probably think we're making whoopee in one of the sand dunes." Marty pulled her into his arms and held her close, tucking his chin into her shoulder, enjoying the way their bodies fitted together so well, like they were made for one another. . "You really mean it? After all this and you still want to marry me?"

"I told you. Nothing's changed. Nothing that matters, anyway." She snuggled in a little closer. "Unless you've changed your mind?" She poked him in the solar plexus, none too gently. "In which case I'll sue you for breach of promise." Not getting a reaction to this either, Kensi jabbed her finger into his stomach again. "Marty?"

He wasn't paying attention, for the good reason that he was staring back towards the house, where a pall of thick grey smoke was rising ominously into the air.

* * *

><p><em>I told you things were going to get exciting, didn't I? Hmmm - there's a lot of potential for some serious injuries in a fire... Will the uber-hair emerged unscathed or will it be singed to a crisp? The evil plot bunny is rubbing his pawas together with delight at the prospect of what is yet to come.<em>


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty Three: down comes the night V**

_And for all the blood-thirsty readers who have been baying for a nice maim - here it comes..._

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><p><em>Oh my God. They're all in the house – Dad, Callen, Sam, Hetty – everyone.<em>

Letting go of Kensi's hand, Marty started racing across the beach, feet pounding off the sands, arms punching the air, running as fast as he had ever run in his life. In his wake, Kensi tried to sprint after him, but after a few strides a sharply intense twinge forcibly reminded her that it had only been a few weeks since surgery, and she slowed down to a jog that brought the pain down to bearable levels, biting back her frustration at being incapacitated in this way. Not that she would have been able to keep up with the pace Marty was setting, she thought, even when she was at full fitness. He was running as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. Already she could see that Marty had reached the high stone walls that surrounded the house and was pulling open the wooden doors that led into the courtyard. As he did so, a cloud of smoke poured out, and when Kensi looked up, she could see that the roof of the house was already well ablaze, with flames leaping high into the air. That meant there were at least two sources of ignition – one at ground level, one higher up. And that meant this was no accident – the fire was deliberate. And the speed with which it had taken hold meant that there had to have been some form of accelerant used. The more she thought about it, the worse things seemed.

Dragging a deep breath of clean air into his lungs, Marty ran across the flagstones, feeling their warmth through his bare feet and trying his best to ignore the crackling sounds the fire was already making as it steadily started to consume the house. Once inside, his worst fear were confirmed when he realised that the accumulation of smoke was already starting to make it difficult to see.

"Callen?" Why did the place have to be so damned huge? He didn't have a clue where he was, far less where the rest of the team might be. Not to mention his father. But as Marty moved forward, stumbling slightly and groping like a blind man, the smoke cleared enough to show a corridor stretching off to his left. That seemed as good a place as any to start.

_Do not do this to me. I've only just found him. Do not take him away from me again._

"Sam?" He was yelling at the top of his voice, basically screaming his lungs out and then stupidly taking an automatic took a deep breath, the inhalation of smoke nearly made him cough his guts up. Where the hell were they?

"Deeks- you got a clear way out?" The voice came from somewhere to his left, that much he could tell, but nothing more, apart from the fact that it belonged to Callen. He'd never been so glad to hear anyone in his entire life.

"Same way I came in. Are you guys in one piece?"

"Slightly smoke damaged, but apart from that, we're fine." The voice was getting closer now, but at the same time the smoke was getting starting to get denser. "Keep talking Deeks, so we can come towards your voice. Visibility's crap, to use a technical term."

"Same here. Sam and Hetty – are they with you?" It was getting difficult to breath, Deeks realised, and his voice sounded hoarse and raspy.

"Right behind me. And get down, as close to the floor as possible – the air's better."

Not by much, Callen thought, painfully aware of how much his eyes were smarting, but hopefully it was enough to allow them to get out safely. Or in one piece at any rate. He didn't want to think about what damage the smoke might be doing to his eye, or if the irritation would fuck up the delicate surgery that had repaired his detached retina. Having gone through all the tedious recovery and battled the terror that he'd never see properly again, Callen really didn't want to risk screwing it all up again. He crawled along the corridor at a steady pace, aware that his right eye had now proceeded to go from uncomfortable to downright painful. The sooner he was out of here, the better.

Having finally made it into the courtyard at last, Kensi was cursing her slowness and vowing to start jogging the moment she got back to LA, when a figure came pelting around the corner and nearly bowled her clean over. Instinctively, she grabbed on to her would-be assailant and ended up pulling them both down onto the ground. "EJ? What the hell are you doing here?"

EJ's only response to this was to struggle against Kensi's grasp, which was the worst thing she could have done under the circumstances, because the other agent reacted instinctively and went into defensive mode. In a single swift move, Kensi flipped EJ onto her back, pinning both arms uncomfortably above her head, and exerting pressure to ensure they stayed exactly where she wanted them, which was where they could do no damage.

"You want to tell me why you're here?" Kensi asked, bending her head down and increasing the pressure as EJ struggled. A wad of spit came flying past her right ear. "Classy, EJ – real classy. It's just a pity your aim's so crap" She forced EJ to contract her arms so that her hands were bent down towards her head and then increased the pressure once more, knowing the muscles and tendons would scream at the abuse they were being subjected to. "Last chance, EJ."

"Fuck you!" EJ snarled.

Kensi sighed to herself. Some people never knew when they were onto a good thing and her patience had now officially run out. She raised her right knee and then planted it firmly into EJ's stomach, leaning all her weight upon it. As EJ's eyes widened in horror and her mouth stared to open, Kensi grabbed both wrists in one hand, and at the same time balled up her other fist and slammed it into EJ's face. Her movements were so fast that the scream forming in EJ's throat never had a chance to erupt.

"Had enough yet?"

EJ shook her head. "Bitch." Her lips were swollen and her mouth was bleeding, but she managed to force that word out clearly enough.

"You said it." Grabbing EJ's collar with her left hand, Kensi pulled back her right arm and then smashed her fist into her face, watching with an impartial air as her head fell back and EJ's entire body relaxed into unconsciousness.

"I always thought you had a glass jaw." Kensi rubbed her knuckles in an attempt to lessen the sting. "Maybe that will teach you to keep it shut in future." She sat back on her heels and let out a sigh of relief.

"Damn. We've missed the cat fight." Callen came staggering out of the door and grinned at her. "Next time, wait until we can all watch, why don't you? Sam is going to be so mad that he wasn't here to see this."

"Nicely done, Ms Blye." Hetty took off her scarf and handed it to her. "You might want to use this to restrain Ms Barrett so that she doesn't try to get away again."

"I'll gladly thump her again, once Sam and Marty are here." Kensi looked up at Callen, noting the way he was struggling to breath, the soot all over his face and body, the way his eyes were rimmed with red. She looked over at the door of the house and clambered slowly to her feet. "Callen? Where are they?"

* * *

><p><em>Sorry - no Marty-maim - yet. Who knows what is happening inside the house? <em>

_ So many people begged me to let Kensi loose on EJ, I felt this graphic violence was justified. Evil plot bunny was quite taken aback. _


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty Four: run in the shadows**

_Huge thanks to all my wonderful reviewers, who make me so very happy! I hope you enjoyed EJ's comeuppance in the last installment. I certainly enjoyed writing it._

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><p>"they're looking for Jack and Rowena." Callen wiped his right eye, which was streaming with tears. "They'd gone upstairs, so Sam and Deeks went after them." He reached out and grabbed hold of her arm. "And you're not going in there after them, understand?"<p>

"Let go of me." Kensi tried to pull her arm free, but his grip was relentless.

"I said you're not going in there. Okay?" Callen's fingers tightened just enough to be uncomfortable and to show he meant business. "It's not going to help, Kensi. The smokes getting thicker by the minute and the roof could come down at any time."

In the distance, the scream of sirens was breaking through the still night air air as the emergency services travelled along the narrow country lanes as fast as they dared. It was finally starting to get dark now and flashing lights punctuated their progress, appearing like semaphore through the dark shadows of the trees. Callen pulled EJ unceremoniously to her feet and dragged her around to the front of the building. Here they could see the full extent of the fire, which was ripping through all floor levels and had already burst through the rook in several places. Something about the primal power of fire was strangely fascinating, almost beautiful in its fury.

"Half the county must be able to see this." The night sky was turning pink and gold; clouds of ashes were floating in the air. Kensi looked at the house, trying not to imagine what it must be like inside, desperately wanting to do something, because anything had to be better than just standing here watching and waiting. "I could help."

"You could get yourself killed." Callen looked at the spectacle and wondered how much longer it would be before the whole house was ablaze. The fire had too strong a hold for there to be any other outcome. A loud bang that was much too close for comfort sent them all staggering backwards, just before a shower of glass cascaded down on to the flagstones as a casement window exploded into a thousand fragments. Flames came roaring almost horizontally out of the gaping hole and then started to lick at the outer walls of the building, just as the first fire engine pulled up and disgorged its crew, who burst into activity, some pulling on breathing apparatus, others unreeling hosepipes.

"There's four people inside," Callen yelled. "Somewhere upstairs." More appliances were arriving now, along with police and ambulance services and the driveway was becoming congested. It galled Callen to realise that he had to stand back and watch and not do anything. This was one situation where showing his badge and declaring "Federal Agent" would only result in a politely raised eyebrow and a polite rebuff. And it was made doubly worse because two members of his team were in there, and he had to stand and watch as best he could, given that his right eye had decided to react to the smoke by swelling closed.

_Let's face it, right now you'd be as much use as a chocolate teapot. Come on, Sam, get your butt out of there, will you? And kick Deek's lazy ass into gear while you're at it._

Inside the house, the temperature was rising steadily as Sam and Deeks, the two men went up the stairs with as much speed as they dared, keeping close to the wall and well away from the flames that were now licking at the ornate wooden balustrading and starting to take hold. The smoke was starting to get much thicker with each step they climbed.

"This floor only. And we're going to have to be fast." Sam was getting seriously worried now. "Check the rooms, get them and get out. Understand?" If they didn't find Jack and Rowena soon, they would have to abandon their search. Things were getting too dangerous and there was no way they could risk going up to the next level. Already Sam was beginning to question his decision to come up to this floor.

"Understood." Deeks made his way across the hallway, leaving Sam to deal with the rooms on the other side. He wasn't about to argue, not now and certainly not with Sam, who was risking his life for two people he'd only met for about ten minutes. If they didn't find them soon… well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. If he came to it. There was no sense in being overly pessimistic.

_Yeah, look on the bright side of things, why don't you, Marty? At least you're not freezing your butt off on that beach any more and your feet are as warm as toast._

It was getting harder to breath as each minute passed. He started banging on the first door, while on the other side Sam carried out an identical manoeuvre. It was only possible to take shallow breaths now, and each lungful of polluted air felt as if it was poisoning him. The first room was empty, and Marty forced himself to go to the next door, when all his senses were screaming at him to get out of this hellish situation. Twomore doors after this, and if these rooms were empty too, he was going to have to make a decision.

"Got them!" There was a distinct note of triumph in the announcement and Deeks thought that Sam's voice had never sounded so good.

"You go first – I'll follow."

Sam grabbed hold of Rowena's hand and pulled her along, while she in turn clung tightly onto Jack. The staircase bannisters were well alight now, but there was no choice, no other exit. If they were lucky, the fire wasn't already eating away at the staircase from underneath. If they were very lucky, the flames already on the stairs wouldn't set their clothes alight. "Okay – on my count and we run like hell, got it?" He could just make out their faces through the choking smoke, pale but determined.

"The front door's unlocked," Rowena said, trying to repress a cough. "It's directly across from the bottom of the stairs – about ten feet."

"We'll keep on running," Sam agreed. "Keep as close to the wall as possible." God, he hated fire. It scared the shit out of him, but there was no alternative but to say "One. Two. THREE," and make a run for it. Looking back (which was something he tried very hard not to do, only there were some nights when the memories refused to be pushed down) Sam reckoned that he'd taken the stairs at least two at a time, maybe even three in some steps. Rowena must have had the ability of a mountain goat, the way she kept up with him. And then there was that blessed moment when his feet hit the tiled floor and directly ahead the door opened and a fireman flung himself to one side as they ran out into the blessedly cool night.

Fresh air had never smelt quite so sweet or been quite as welcome. Sam sank down to his knees and dragged in a deep lungful. His head was spinning and the stench of charred clothing was rising up unpleasantly around him, but he was alive. Raising his head, he looked up and saw Rowena and Jack had been grabbed by paramedics and were being led off to a waiting ambulance. "Deeks?" He looked around again, searching in vain for a tall blond with scruffy hair.

Jets of water were being directed onto various parts of the house, and the roar of the flames was partly overshadowed by the thunder of water pouring down. But all their combined noise could not conceal a long rumbling crash that ended in an earth-shaking sensation and the sound of a man shouting urgently.

"The staircase has collapsed. The whole house is going to go. Get everyone out now!"

Sam got to his feet and started back towards the inferno. "Deeks? Where the hell are you?"

* * *

><p><em>Evil plot bunny is insanely excited by this new development and is hopping his ownheight in the air, which is rather disconcerting. He's got rather a thing for firemen (and who can blame him?) And the burning question (pun intended) is, of course, will Marty's hair survive intact? And what exciting maim will he have suffered? Because, dear and faithful readers and reviewers, I have restrained myself for too long and the time has finally come. Or, it will come, tomorrow. Which isn't that long to wait, is it? <em>


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty Five: damn the dark**

_So, exactly how do you prefer Deeks: medium rare or well-done?_

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><p>It seemed like a whole phalanx of firemen were impeding his progress, moving towards the house in close-format, aiming the high-pressure water jets at the fire in an attempt to force a passage into the building. Sam ran towards them, intent on forcing his way through, when a brawny arm grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to one side with considerable force.<p>

"Don't even think about it, big man. One more step and you'll have your head in your hands to play with." The fireman spat out the words. "Can you no' see we're trying to do a job here? We don't need big eejits like you fucking things up. Get away over there."

The message was somewhat unintelligible, but nevertheless sufficiently blunt that Sam judged it best not to push the point. He rather fancied keeping his head on his shoulders, where it rightfully belonged, particularly as this specimen of Celtic culture looked as if he ate raw meat for breakfast

Marty had only just made it down the first flight of steps and onto the safety of the landing before they crashed down into the hall below, in a massive groan of splintering timbers. He turned round and looked at the ragged remains of the upper stairway in horror and briefly contemplated the fact that he'd missed plummeting a good twenty feet onto the tiled floor below. That had definitely been too close for comfort. He took the next flight at a gallop, as by now, the flames seemed to be coming from everywhere, and it was getting harder to dodge them. Tearing around the final bend in the staircase, he realised there was only one more flight of stairs to go and then he was home free. Which would have been great news, if only there wasn't what looked like a solid sheet of fire in front of him.

"Sweet fucking hell." Sometimes it seemed the whole world deliberately conspired against him.

Turning to look back up what remained of the staircase, Marty wondering if it might be better to try to retrace his steps and try to get out from one of the upped windows. The drop would probably break both his legs, but at least he'd be alive. Unless he landed on his head, of course, and the way things were going lately, Marty thought that was a distinct possibility. Just as he was about to make a dash back upstairs, the situation was made just infinitely worse, when the middle flight of stairs also thudded down into the hall with a cavernous roar. Okay, he was officially stuck.

"Son of a bitch." This was officially crappy. But at least he didn't have to think any more. There was no way he was going to stand around here and be immolated. So, down through the fire it was. It would be better if he ran, Marty thought, if he ran really really fast, possibly at light-speed. Then once he got onto _terra firma_, he could do that whole "drop and roll" manoeuvre they kept banging on about at school. It was funny the things that sprang into your mind when you thought you were going to die. Because there was no way he was getting out of here. It looked like St Michael was having an off-day for once, or maybe he'd just used up the last of his nine lives.

Just as he was about to propel himself downwards, Marty was vaguely aware of voice shouting from the downstairs hall, but what with the fire roaring so loudly, plus the assorted crashes and bangs as the house started to fall apart around him, not to mention the thundering sound of his own blood pulsing around his body, he couldn't begin to make out what they were saying, or even if they knew he was stuck here on the stairs. With a resigned expression on his face, Marty launched himself down the last remaining steps, running relentlessly towards the flames. He'd only taken a couple of strides when suddenly he felt lurching wildly to one side, and then he had the horrible but unmistakable sensation of falling, as the remains of the staircase collapsed underneath him with a sound like a hundred banshees groaning in unison and he careened wildly before plunging down onto the black and white tiled floor. It was uncannily like one of these dreams, when you started to fall and then woke up to discover you were in your own bed, bathed in sweat, but alive. Only this wasn't a dream.

_I thought this would hurt a lot more._ Deeks realised that he was lying on his back, all the breath knocked out of his body. He was looking upwards at a tangle of charred timbers, and watching the advancing flames with a curious detachment. _It really doesn't hurt at all._

It took about five seconds before the pain hit, along with a downpour of freezing cold water that soaked him to the skin almost instantly. _Great. First I'm nearly burned to death, then I break my back in the fall, now I'm going to drown._ But he really couldn't work up the energy to be bothered; it was easier just lie here and accept what was happening. It wasn't as if there was a whole lot he could do about it, when all was said and done.

Sam was just about to join Callen, when there was a sudden flurry of activity among the fire crews, along with a whole load of shouting in what were mainly impenetrable accents. A hand beckoned imperiously.

"Oi, you – big man with the ba' heid." The fireman pointed at Sam, who found himself pointing at his own chest with a surprised expression as he struggled to make sense of the statement. "Aye, you." The fireman wondered if all Americans were so slow on the uptake, or if it was just this particular, rather muscle-bound specimen." We've found your mate. They're bringing him out."

Kensi materialised at his side and dug her nails painfully into his arm. "Denise is going to give me the third-degree when she sees those claw marks," he chided, but she wasn't listening, she was concentrating all her energies on the house.

"Come on." The words were so soft they were not even a whisper. Kensi was leaning forward, watching intently, just waiting for something to happen. Sam tried very hard not to think about what she would do if they just brought out a body. "Come on, Marty."

And then two firemen staggered out, half-carrying a third man between them, his arms looped around their shoulders and his head hanging down as his feet struggled to keep up with their progress. Kensi leaped as violently as if a 1000 volt shock had charged through her body.

* * *

><p><em>For readers unfamiliar with the charming phrases of the Scottish vernacular, I can do not better than to refer you to one William "Billy" Connelly, better known as "The Big Yin". Especially recommended is his version of "D.I.V.O.R.C.E.". A few helpful hints are given below:<em>

_"Eejit" is the local pronounciation of "idiot". For some reason, MS Word accepted this without a murmur - so they must have a Scottish programmer! Suffice it to say, giving someone "their head in their hands to play with" is not a term of endearment, but it is a wonderfully picturesque phrase and one I highly recommend you use when aggrieved. "Ba' heid" should be pronounced "baw heed" for maximum effect and can be used to refer to any person who is follically challenged. This may result in your head being "put back" (which is pretty self-explanatory), but any resultant damage should heal in a few weeks time and you will have an amusing story to tell your friends. _


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty Six: coming through the dark**

"Man's got more lives than a cat," Sam murmured. "But he'd better stop pushing his luck."

"I'll make him, don't you worry. Even if I have to physically sit on him to stop him doing something stupid next time." In her heart, Kensi knew that there would always be a next time – and a time after that too. Just as she knew that she'd forgive this time, and the next time too. She wanted badly to push forward and rush over to him, but a particularly burly policeman turned around as she edged forward.

"Stay put, hen." He sounded friendly enough, but he also clearly meant business. It wasn't entirely clear why he was comparing her to a chicken, but this wasn't the time to get into a linguistic debate, Kensi thought.

"Is that Kensi threatening grievous bodily harm again, Sam? Because, knowing Deeks, he'd love that. Probably beg you to put the handcuffs on him as well." Callen joined them as they watched the group slowly make their way towards the hastily-erected barrier they were standing behind.

"Shut up. Say much more and she'll guess that we rigged up a camera in their bedroom."

Callen tried to flash an insouciant grin at Kensi, but the effect was somewhat diluted by his eye, which had now swollen to positively grotesque proportions and was weeping like a leaky tap, and in any case, Kensi wasn't paying any attention. "As long as you don't mention the one in the shower, I reckon we're okay."

Sam looked at him and shuddered. "You really need to get that eye seen to, G. Really. Take my word for it."

Callen just shrugged and watched as the fireman took another few steps closer. Kensi was visibly straining, like a greyhound begging to be let off a leash.

At the rear of the garden, where they were well away from the hugger mugger, Hetty turned to EJ, who was standing, with her hands still tied firmly behind her back and a sulky expression on her face. "Much as I would like to take to back to the US to stand trial, I rather think that Her Majesty's Police Force will want to charge you with arson and attempted murder. And this time, I don't think your uncle is going to be able to help you wriggle out it."

EJ gave her a patronising smile and shifted her weight onto one leg. "Like that's going to happen. Screw you. I'll see you in hell before that, Hetty." She brought her knee up with a fierce and brutal force, watching with savage joy as it connected with the older woman's jaw and sent her tumbling backwards. She took off a second later, sprinting down the lane and the darting into the thicket of trees that led towards the road south.

"That little madam!" Hetty sat in the middle of a bed of geraniums, many of which would never quite recover their former glory. "I was particularly fond of that scarf too," she said ruefully, before pushing herself onto her feet and attmepting to brush the worst of the earth off herself, only to discover that there was a goodly quantity of manure mixed into the soil, and the seat of her pants was ruined beyond all hope of redemption. "Bugger it. And bugger your slow reactions, you silly old bag." Tutting in an annoyed fashion, she made her way over to her agents to break the bad news about EJ.

"Mr Callen?" It was only with a considerable effort that Hetty didn't recoil when he turned around to face her. "Go and get that seen to – at once!"

_Dear God, the man looks like some sort of mutilated Cyclops._

"I'm fine."

"You most certainly are not. Go now." She stared at him, without blinking. Even when both eyes were working normally, Callen had never been able to beat her at that game, try as he might. And he was at a decided disadvantage tonight.

"Let me see how Deeks is first."

"You can see Mr Deeks later." Hetty spoke with the absolute authority of one who is certain that she will ultimately prevail.

"Fine." Callen was aware that he sounded like a child in a huff and was probably pouting into the bargain. Clearly he'd been working with Deeks for too long and it was starting to rub off.

"Hi Kensi." He'd finally managed to make it over to the barrier, even though his legs felt as if they belonged to someone else. Marty raised a bedraggled head and forced a grin onto his face. "Sorry to be so long."

"You've ruined those pants." She stared at his dishevelled appearance, at the grime covering him from head to foot and then rushed forward, flung her arms around his neck and kissed him as though there was no tomorrow. Marty briefly rocked back on his heels with the force of her embrace, before locking his arms around her waist and letting one hand rest on the curve of her ass.

"Some people – you can't take them anywhere," Sam said apologetically. "He's normally pretty scruffy, but this is a real low, even for Deeks. But she doesn't seem to mind, does she?"

"We ken fine what you Yanks are like," the smaller fireman said enviously. He'd never gone any further than a day trip to Blackpool with the Boys' Brigade.

His crew-mate was less reticent "You got a kiss for me too, eh doll?" he asked enviously, when Kensi finally released Marty, who just stood there with a slightly dazed grin on his face. "Cos looking at the state of him, it was worth going through fire to get to you."

Kensi grinned and happily kissed both of them. Right now she was feeling so good about everything, she'd even have kissed Director Vance. And then gone and rinsed her mouth out with disinfectant.

"Hold onto her, mate – she's a smasher!" Thoroughly pleased with themselves, the firemen went back to their crew.

"Close call," Sam said dispassionately.

"Yup." Marty raised his eyebrows enquiringly. "You okay?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. You?"

"I'm okay."

"You don't look okay."

"For God's sake, why can't you just hug each other and then go and thump you chests and give a manly roar so nobody thinks you compromised your masculinity? Marty – get your butt over there and get yourself checked out." Kensi placed her hands on her hips and gave him a meaningful look.

"Better not argue with her," Sam advised.

"Wasn't going to. I'd rather go back into that house." Marty thumped Sam on the shoulder with his fist. "Thanks."

"Any time."

"Is that what counts as a deep and sincere display of emotion? I mean, you've both gone through a life-threatening situation and that's as good as it gets with you two, isn't it?" Kensi said despairingly.

"That's as good as it gets."

"Okay, I'll settle for that. For now. But I'm going to talk to Hetty and make sure you both go on one of those courses that teach you how to get in touch with your inner feelings."

"I went on one of those already," Marty protested. "They said they'd help me find my inner child. Turned out I'd never actually grown up in the first place."

"Waste of money. I could have told you that for free." Sam looked carefully at him. "You do know your pants are cut to ribbons and your ass is hanging out, don't you?"

* * *

><p><em>It will not have escaped your notice that Deeks seems remarkably unharmed. I would like to emphasise the word "seems". And to point out that I have now dared to maim Hetty, even if it was only slightly. Evil plot bunny does not think that was a good idea and says I am now in big trouble...<em>

_Sorry - only one update today. Work is particularly hectic at the moment._


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty Seven: coming through the dark**

_apologies for the lack of updates yesterday - busy day and then I was out all evening, sipping champagne, which was lovely! I need more nights like that! Hopefully, this installment will start ot make up for yesterday..._

* * *

><p>"It could be worse – at least I'm wearing clean underwear." Marty screwed his head around to inspect the damage. "I seem to have sliced my leg open," he remarked casually, wondering why he wasn't feeling any pain.<p>

A passing paramedic touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Are you able to walk over to the ambulance?" She looked at Sam. "You'd better come too; get that smoke inhalation seen to."

"I can't leave my friends," Sam protested, looking around to see if he could spot Hetty and Callen in the crowds.

"The wee wifie with the sore jaw and the guy with the eye? They're being taken care of by another crew. Dinnae fache yourself."

Despite everything, Kensi had to choke back a snigger and she didn't dare look at either man. The idea of Hetty being referred to as "a wee wifie" was just too delicious for words. She'd have to remember that and store it up for future use. Caroline especially would appreciate that description.

Marty started to try to walk over to the ambulance and found that his legs were refusing to obey him once again and appeared to have the consistency of that repulsive jello Kensi was so unaccountably fond of.

"Don't disgrace yourself any more than you have already by falling flat on your face and exposing your butt to half the population of Scotland." Sam grabbed his arm and slung it over his shoulder, easily taking the weight.

"Some people think my butt is cute. It has been referred to as "the wonder butt", on occasion. And anyway, I've been told Scots don't wear any underwear at all underneath their kilts."

"Don't believe everything you hear," the paramedic said with a smile, surrepticiously checking out his rear and mentally agreeing that his butt was indeed particularly fine. That leg laceration though, that was another kettle of fish altogether; a long, ragged tear that looked deep and nasty, possibly needing more than just some external sutures to close it and it had to hurt. Only judging by the fact her patient wasn't complaining of any pain, he was probably in shock, with his blood pressure in his boots, which was always dangerous.

Sam shook his head despairingly. "And don't believe him about his butt. It's not that great. Plus it's still bruised from where he was dropped on his head."

"Were you knocked out?" The paramedic wondered if Sam had also suffered a head injury, because that last statement didn't even begin to make sense.

"He's been knocked out twice in the last three days. Or is that four days?" Kensi tried to work out the timescale. "I'm kind of mixed up, what with still being half on LA time," she confessed.

"Knocked out as in unconscious?" They were at the ambulance now and the paramedic was starting to look concerned. The combination of factors was starting to ring warning bells in her head.

"He was out cold for over half an hour. And he had brain surgery because of internal bleeding a few months ago."

"It was no big deal," Marty assured her, plastering a winning smile over his face. The effect was somewhat lessened by the fact that he was liberally coated in soot and grime and bore a decided resemblance to a racoon. "I'm fine, really I am." It was just that things didn't seem particularly real right now, like all this was happening to someone else.

"How about we let the doctors decide about that?" She started putting an automatic blood-pressure cuff around his arm and placing heart monitor sensors on his chest. . "Put that on, please." She handed Marty an oxygen mask and, as the blood-pressure cuff inflated automatically, slipped a needle into the vein in the crook of his elbow.

"Is all this really necessary?" Marty protested. He'd hoped she might just stick some paper sutures on that leg wound and then they could go back to Edinburgh and crash. After everything that had gone on today, he just wanted to curl up with Kensi and sleep for about twelve hours. Sitting in the back of an ambulance, wired up to various machines and now with an IV in his arms did not figure in his plans at all.

The monitor pinged out a reading. "Oh yes, it's necessary." The paramedic looked up at her partner, who'd been busy checking over Sam. "You want to get us going? Blues and twos, okay?" He leapt out of the doors like a scalded cat and rushed around the vehicle to get into the driver's seat.

Kensi had seen the looks they exchanged and knew something was up. "Blues and twos?" she queried.

"Just to make sure we get a clear run into the city." The paramedic was lowering the head of the bed so that Marty was lying flat on his back.

Through the tinted glass, Kensi could see that the night sky was suddenly illuminated with flashing blue lights and as the ambulance moved off, the sirens kicked in, screeching loudly. They moved along the narrow country lanes at a frighteningly fast speed. Marty was lying perfectly quietly now, his eyes closed and giving the impression of being sound asleep, which seemed particularly unlikely, given the way the vehicle was rocking every time they turned a corner – and this road seemed to be full of hairpin bends – not, to mention the racket made by the sirens.

"Stay awake for us, okay?" The paramedic rubbed Marty's arm gently and was rewarded by a sleepy look. She looked over at Kensi and Sam. "And try not to worry too much, okay?"

Kensi leaned forward and took hold of Marty's hand and held onto it tightly. "Why would I be worried? You're superman, right?"

"Some people will do anything to get attention," Sam said. "It's a character flaw. I just rely on my natural charm, good looks and superior abilities."

"Hot nurses. Bed baths." Marty murmured indistinctly.

"You should be so lucky."

* * *

><p><em>At last, I can hear you cry. <strong>Properly<strong> maimed-Marty. Such joy. Further installments will be forthcoming. The maim will be developed more fully. __As for the lack of pain, low blood-pressure - it's a nasty form of shock that's rather dangerous. I have discovered this from personal experience._

_Oh - and "Dinnae fache yourself" is more Scots and means "don't get upset" - from the French "se facher" for those of you who are interested in etymology (which is probably just me, but there you go...)_


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty Eight: coming through the dark**

"You should be so lucky."

"Spoilsport. Just ruin my fantasies, why don't you?" The thought of Kensi in sheer black stockings was particularly beguiling.

"Why not? I'm a happily married-man who isn't allowed to even think about things like that unless Denise gives me express permission. And, seeing as how you keep promising to make an honest woman out of Kensi, I don't see why you should be either."

"One – I'll thank you to leave me out of your fantasies, Sam and two – exactly what makes you think I won't be the one giving you the bed baths, Marty?" Kensi asked. What wasn't to like about the prospect of running a cloth slowly down his gorgeous body? There were a lot of women who would gladly pay to do that.

Marty opened his eyes at that and gave her a hopeful look. "You mean you packed the nurse's outfit? Tell me you remembered the black stockings?"

"Too much information. Like I said – I'm a happily married man, whose wife just happens to be thousands of miles away. So knock off trying to make me jealous. Because it's working."

"You're a pair of real wind-up merchants, are you?" the paramedic asked sympathetically. "Leave the poor man in peace." She produced a pair of scissors. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to look at that leg wound."

"These are brand new pants – I only put them on this afternoon." Marty suddenly remembered he'd left his jacket and shoes lying on the beach. At this rate, he was going to be leaving the hospital practically naked. Unless, of course, he could manage to obtain some surgical scrub pants - which would make Kensi very happy. And if she was going to wear the nurse's uniform, he was more than happy to wear the scrubs. Result all round.

"I'm not going to touch your pants, don't worry," the paramedic soothed, wondering what on earth American EMTs got up to in the course of their duties. She'd heard stories, of course… "Just your trousers. We'll try and leave you with some dignity, son."

Sam grunted. "As long as he didn't go commando – again."

"Speak for yourself, Sam." Kensi was taken aback to see how deeply he blushed at that and decided to push the point. "Sometimes I almost feel sorry for Callen. It can't be much fun being partnered with a man who can't even be bothered to wear underwear." She was trying very hard not to look at the ragged tear in Marty's leg.

"Any idea how you did this?" The paramedic ran a gentle finger down the wound and Marty just managed not to flinch.

"Must have been when the stairs collapsed underneath me. Maybe a nail or something like that?" he hadn't felt anything, but it had all happened so fast. It was strange, because you'd think that it would have hurt like fun when it happened. He risked a quick look, and saw a disturbing amount of mangled flesh and congealed clots of blood.

"Could be." She placed a sterile dressing over it. "You'll probably have to go to theatre to get that cleaned out properly and stitched up."

"He's going to be on crutches, isn't he?" Sam groaned when the paramedic nodded her agreement. "Great. I bet Callen's going to need an eye-patch too and between them they're going to look like Long John Silver on a bad day."

"Stop talking so much, and just concentrate on breathing that oxygen," the paramedic advised dryly. "We're nearly there now and we'll take your friend straight through to resuscitation. Not that we think he's going to need that," she reassured Kensi, who had gone ashen. "But that's where they've got all the equipment. Can you go and give his details to the reception desk?"

"Sam?" Kensi said, with a pleading note in her voice.

He nodded, knowing that she wanted to stay with Marty. "I'll do it. Not that I'm guaranteeing to remember all his long and convoluted medical history, but I'll do my best." The ambulance pulled to a halt and Kensi had to let go of Marty's hand and watch as they rushed him in through the automatic doors.

"He'll be fine. He always is." Sam gave her a brief hug.

"I know. And you make sure you get yourself checked out too."

Hetty was standing waiting for them, arms crossed and with a slightly lop-sided appearance caused by a swollen jaw, which was already starting to bruise. "Straight through there, Mr Hannah. I've already alerted the medical staff and they're just waiting to check you over. Smoke inhalation can be nasty." She gave him a beady glare and then her face softened unexpectedly. "What you did – going in there after Rowena and Jack – it was very brave. I'll be recommending you for a commendation."

For once, Sam was lost for words. He nodded his head briefly in acknowledgement and meekly went off in the direction she had indicated.

"Mr Callen is still being seen by an ophthalmologist." Hetty's voice was not as crisp or decisive as usual, and Kensi suspected she was in more pain than she was letting on. "If this has set his recovery back, or compromised his eyesight, EJ Barratt will rue the day she was born."

"Not to mention the fact that Marty has a leg wound that's going to require surgery." Kensi gritted her teeth. "Just wait till I catch up with her."

Hetty debated whether or not to tell Kensi that EJ was currently at large, and decided that her agent had more than enough to be going on with at the moment. And with any luck, the police would pick EJ up quickly. She wasn't exactly going to be unobtrusive, what with those leather pants and her hands tied behind her back. All things considered, discretion seemed the better part of valour. "Go and see how Marty's getting on. I'll catch up with you later. There's a few phone calls I have to make first of all."

At some point she was going to have to alert Leon Vance to the fact that and NCIS agent had gone rogue and was not at large, armed and dangerous, in a foreign country. Which could prove to be rather embarrassing to the US authorities, so that would mean a call to the Consulate in Edinburgh and hauling someone out of bed. However, there was someone else she needed to speak to first. Despite appearances to the contrary, Hetty didn't actually like having to devious or going behind people's backs, but she was left with no choice.

"Nico? It's Henrietta Lang here. Now, you're not to worry, dear, but I'm afraid Mr Callen is in the hospital. Along with Mr Deeks. And his father, and stepmother." The loud agitated noises at the end of the phone made Hetty pull her cell away from her ear and sigh. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p><em>Oh dear - Nico and Kensi on the war-path - EJ really doesn't stand a chance, does she? What a pity...<em>


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty Nine: beginning to see the light**

_filled with guilt about the paucity of updates, I bring you installment three before I go to bed._

* * *

><p>Sam suffered being poked and prodded by various doctors, who listened to his chest, peered into his eyes with great interest, examined his nose and throat for signs of smoke damage and regarded the results of the pulse oximeter with interest. In the end, they concluded that he'd been very lucky not to suffer any real damage from smoke inhalation and he could safely go home. Highly relieved at not being detained overnight, he forbad from mentioning that going home would actually involve a 12 hour flight, and just thanked them politely, making good his escape before they could change their minds. Jack Brandel was waiting outside, pacing nervously up and down the corridor and practically pounced on Sam as he emerged from the cubicle.<p>

"I didn't get a chance to thank you earlier." He shook Sam's hand vigorously, pumping it up and down with rather more force than was strictly necessary.

"No need. I'm just glad you're alright. And Rowena?"

"She's fine – or she was the last time I saw her. Right now, she's with Hetty – they've gone to get coffee. Or maybe tea. Knowing this place, if it's warm and wet, they'll be doing well."

Sam realised that Jack was incredibly nervous and it was easy to work out why. It wasn't every day you met your son for the first time in nearly twenty years, only to have your house basically fall apart around his ears and nearly burn to death. No wonder the man was on edge. It was strange to think that Deeks had a father: Sam was rather inclined to believe that Deeks had entered the world, fully-formed and brimful of annoying habits. Only here was his father, clearly worried out of his mind, yet fearful that he might be intruding.

"I came in with Deeks and Kensi in the ambulance. He's a bit banged up, but I'm sure he'll be fine." Well, Sam reasoned, there was no point in worrying the man unduely. "He kind of makes a habit of getting into trouble. Was he always this accident-prone as a kid?"

"He was terrible. His mother and I despaired of him. We used to joke that there should be a chair with Mikey's name on it in the emergency department of the local hospital. The staff there all knew him by name before he was five." He smiled at the memories.

"Sounds like my kid. If there's trouble, Crosby's right there in the middle of it. He's seven now and your son thinks it would be a good idea to teach him to surf and play ice hockey. I just think about how much damage he can do to himself. Crosby, that is. Deeks I already know about."

"Can we go and see him? I just want to make sure he's okay."

Well, Sam could relate to that. He knew he would feel exactly the same if it was Crosby. "Let's go see if we can find out what's going on."

What was going on involved a whole lot of tests. Predictably, once the doctors learned about Marty's previous history of head injuries, they were definitely erring on the side of caution and insisting upon a scan before letting him go off to have his leg wound dealt with under general anaesthetic. By this time, he'd given up even trying to suggest that a quick wash out and some band aids would be fine and was just lying back on the patient trolley with a resigned expression on his face.

"Next time you get a head injury – you get it checked out. Immediately. Understand? You can't afford to take chances, especially with your past medical history." The doctor looked at Kensi, who was leaning against the wall, trying to stay out of the way. "You'll make sure he does that, will you?"

"You can count on it." Even if she had to personally carry him to the ER, kicking and screaming.

Sam smirked. "Not even married, and already she's got him exactly where she wants him."

"I heard that." Marty turned his head towards the voice. "Put it this way – she's got me exactly where I want to be. Why the hell would I protest about that?" He caught sight of his father and felt like falling down a very large hole. "Hi Dad."

"Hi son. How're you doing?" Jack stood awkwardly, not quite sure of what to do or say.

"Apart from everyone making a huge fuss about a bit of a cut and some bumps and bruises, I'm fine."

"The staircase collapsed and sent you flying. I think that's good reason to make a fuss, Mikey." Jack moved closer to the bed, and took a good long look at his son. "And I've got to say, you don't look too hot."

"I thought your name was Marty?" A nurse consulted his chart. "That's what we've got written down here."

"It's a long story," Kensi advised. "Marty Deeks will do fine." She bent over the bed and dropped a kiss onto his forehead as they prepared to take him for the scan. "You be good, you hear me?"

"I'm always good." He lowered his voice. "Take care of Dad for me, will you?"

"You know I will." She watched as the doors shut behind them. "This doesn't get easier, does it? I feel like I've been here so many times before and yet…"

"And yet he always manages to come up with some new and exciting injury?" Sam took hold of her elbow. "Come on Kensi – let's see if we can find the rest of the group and see if we can't manage to get hold of something to eat." Now he came to think about it, Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper meal. A few sandwiches over tea in the hotel surely didn't count? Kensi had a certain look on her face that he'd come to associate with low blood-sugar levels. "You could discover Scottish junk food, you know," he added temptingly, basely appealing to her weakness.

"You haven't lived until you've tasted a deep-fried Mars Bar," Jack said and was charmed to see their reaction. "I'm kidding you. They take the candy bar, dip it in batter and then deep-fry it."

It wasn't often that Sam was lost for words, but this was definitely one of those occasions. "Why?" he managed weakly after considering this carefully.

"Beats me. I've never actually tried one before, but it's been one of those days when I'm about to throw caution to the winds. Anyone care to join me?"

"Why not?" Kensi decided she rather liked her almost father in law. Who cared if this was a recipe for a heart attack? Sometimes you just had to live for the moment, for who knew what the next day would bring.

* * *

><p><em>I have not made up the deep fired mars-bar. Sadly it does exist and is strangely popular in Scotland, along with a nice chaser of Irn Bru (a soft drink, marketed under the slogan of "Made in Scotland - from girders). I have not yet succumbed to its dubious pleasures, but Irn Bru is great - especially if you have a hangover.<em>


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter Forty: dawn's early light part I**

_So the infamous deep-fried Mars Bar is now a world-wide delicacy? Nope, I'm still not going to try it. I tried haggis once, and that was once too often. Irn Bru, on the other hand, is fantastic, and not only as a hang-over cure._

* * *

><p>He'd forgotten how obscenely early the day starts in a hospital, or maybe that was selective amnesia? Not that he'd actually slept much, despite being physically and emotionally exhausted. It had been getting on for 2 am before they had finally finished with treating him, by which time there were no single rooms left, which meant he was currently in a four bedded-room, with three other occupants, all of whom snored like grampuses with asthma. Consequently, he could now state with absolute authority that it was daylight shortly after 4 am. In the freaking morning! Which meant that the birds started singing long before that. And Scottish birds were preternaturally cheery with incredibly piercing chirps or whistles or whatever the hell words described the god-awful racket they made. If only he had his gun, he'd have cheerfully shot each one of the little buggers.<p>

Apart from a slight tightness in his chest, breathing wasn't too bad, a lot better than he'd thought it would be, to be honest. Of course, his throat felt raw, but the doctors had assured him there would be no lasting damage and that he'd be fine in a couple of days. Thinking back, it seemed little short of miraculous that they'd all got out of there with no major damage. Maybe that medal of St Michael really did work?

"Here we go." A male orderly, who looked as if he would have been more at home monitoring the inmates of a maximum security prison plonked down a bowl that was slightly larger than the average soup plate, along with a face flannel and a bar of soap on the bed-table and swung it over, effectively trapping him and cutting off any possible means of escape.

"Sorry? What am I meant to do with this?"

The orderly was already pulling the curtains around his bed, but he paused just long enough to shoot him a look. "Wash yourself, mate. What do you think?"

Great. One tiny basin of water to try to remove all the soot and grime that coated his body. Like that was going to work. Still, there was nothing else for it, he'd just have to make the best of it. The first time he rinsed the flannel out, the water instantly took on an unpleasant greyish hue, and several large cinders floated on the surface. So much for hot nurses tenderly giving him a bed bath, lovingly catering to his every whim. Next time anybody said how good the NHS was, he'd put them right. And next time he was in hospital he was damn well going to demand a bed bath, even if he'd just broken a tow, just to make up for this. Reluctantly, he wiped the grimy cloth of his face once again and then made a half-hearted attempt at scrubbing the dirt of his arms before giving up completely.

Breakfast arrived soon afterwards, and he made the mistake of asking for porridge, thinking "when in Scotland" and all that. Really, if he'd been thinking clearly, he'd have noticed that the other guys in the room gave it a body-swerve and went straight for the tea and toast option. Two mouthfuls and he knew why. Really, he should have stopped after the first spoonful, but he'd refused to believe that anything could actually be so repulsive and had convinced himself he was imagining things. Which just showed how seriously deluded you could be at times. Clearly, in addition to being injured and sleep-deprived, he was also jet-lagged. That had to be it. Either that or this was an incredibly vivid nightmare.

To make matters worse, there was no sign of his team at all. Even a visit from Hetty would have been welcome. But the nurses explained that visiting hours were strictly controlled, and he'd have to wait until the afternoon before he could see anyone. His cell-phone was no use – it didn't operate outside the US and he couldn't exactly discharge himself and make his own way back to the Edinburgh house, because not only had Hetty taken his wallet and ID for safekeeping, but every last stitch of clothing he'd been wearing had been dumped back in the emergency department, ruined beyond all hope of salvation by the fire. Which meant that he was trapped, stuck here wearing one of these humiliating hospital gowns that flapped open at the back, confined to bed in a room with three men who insisted on talking about what they called fitba', although they clearly meant soccer and kept asking him if he supported Hearts or Hibs. It gradually became obvious that they regarded it as little less than a hanging offense not to support either team, far less admit that he'd never heard of either of them. His observation that he'd seen David Beckham play in LA did not impress the men either, indeed it gained him a particularly withering look.

"He's English, son. Played for Manchester United. We've got our own teams and our own leagues in Scotland. We don't care about what they do doon south."

They pretty much ignored him after that, which was just fine as far as Callen was concerned. He lay back and stared up at the ceiling and wondered when this purgatory would end.

* * *

><p><em>NHS – National Health Service. Part of the UK "cradle to grave" services. Free at the point of need. Great medical care, but rather lacking on the luxury front, which is fair enough. And there's definitely no visiting out-with the appointed hours, unless it's really serious.<em>

_For the uninitiated, Hearts (aka Heart of Midlothian) and Hibs (aka Hibernian) are the two Edinburgh football teams. For many people, football isn't just a matter of life or death – it's much more important than that. Not me! IMO rugby players are better looking and you get a much better maim in a game of rugby._


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter Forty One: dawn's early light part II**

Sam came strolling in just after 2 pm, which was the official start of visiting hours, although Callen had seen several relatives strolling past for the last half hour.

"We Scots dinnae like being told what to do, son – ye ken?" the old man in the bed next to his said in a conspiratorial whisper. "There's far too many rules these days. They'll be telling you when you can take a leak next." Considering there was a catheter bag hanging down from the old chap's bed, Callen didn't think he had much to worry about on that score.

Sam had never looked so good, especially as he was holding a large carrier bag. "Clothes?" Callen asked hopefully, reasoning that clothes meant escape.

"Nice to see you too." Sam looked at him curiously. "Why are you grey?"

"Because I tried to wash. They seem to have a water shortage around here, because I got about a pint of water in a cereal bowl and managed to smear the soot around my face a bit."

Sam dumped the bag onto the bed. "Kensi went wild with Deeks' credit card. One of Deeks' credit cards. He's got more in that wallet than you would believe. She said she had better taste than me and you could thank her for it later on." He watched as Callen started pulling out various garments and inspecting them carefully.

For a brief moment Callen wondered how Kensi had managed to buy everything in the right sizes, but then decided that was something he really didn't want to think about too deeply. He'd just pretend that all women had a natural ability that way and not think about the fact that she and Nico had clearly been comparing notes. Because there was no way Kensi could have known not only the exact size of underpants he wore, but also the style _and_ his preferred colourway. He just hoped that was all they'd talked about, although he doubted it. How come women always had to talk about things like that? Why couldn't they just be like his room-mates, who were now discussing some obscure football match in 1966 and all agreeing that the third goal should never have been given? Life was so much simpler when you reduced it down to beer and sports and left emotions and relationships well alone. It was just a pity women didn't seem to realise that.

"Your eye okay?" Sam asked laconically, as Callen continued to inspect Kensi's clothing choices. He didn't seem very grateful, considering she'd clearly gone to quite a bit of trouble, even asking him what sizes Callen wore. After working so closely with Callen for all these years, Sam knew his partner's tastes and measurements almost as well as he did his own.

"A bit irritated, but no lasting damage." Last night they had irrigated his eye thoroughly, and then stared at it for what seemed like an eternity before announcing that the surgical repair had not been compromised. A further visit from the specialist this morning had resulted in a large bag full of ointments and dressing pads and strict instructions to wear an eye patch for at least two weeks. Considering what the alternative might have been, Callen had no trouble agreeing to do just that. "How's Deeks doing?"

"Back in one piece, I gather. If you get dressed, we could go along and see him?"

Freedom! Callen understood exactly what William Wallace had felt like as he gathered his new clothes together and escaped into the bathroom to get changed. God bless Kensi – she'd even put in a razor, toothbrush and toothpaste. He managed to remove a bit more of the grime from his face and emerged looking almost presentable, although his hair still felt full of soot. "I'm ready. Let's get out of here."

Sam was still annoyed at Callen's lack of gratitude for all Kensi's kindess, not to mention Deeks' generosity. Not that he supposed for one moment Deeks knew anything about it, but it was the principle of the matter.

"You still look decidedly grubby around the edges. Just walk two steps behind me, alright? And the first thing we do when we get back to the townhouse is you take a shower. A long, very hot shower. Understood? We don't want you giving Americans a bad name."

"Stop nagging. I'm not Crosby."

"No, you're not. He knows how to use soap and water." They were at the right ward now and Sam opened the door.

"Okay – how did you manage this?" Callen couldn't believe his eyes: there was Deeks, lying cosily ensconced in a private room, that was filled with flowers.

"Natural charm?" Deeks was sitting up in bed and looking remarkably clean.

"You got the hot nurses to give you a bed bath, didn't you?" He felt like crying at the injustice of it all.

Deeks positively smirked. "What can I say? Apart from emphasising the natural charm yet again, not to mention my boyish good looks."

Callen glared at Kensi, who was opening her mouth. "Don't even think about mentioning his gorgeous body. Or his fabulous hair."

"Why would she? You've just saved her the effort."

"Excuse me? I can speak for myself." Kensi smiled charmingly at Callen. "Maybe they put him in a private room because – oh gee, let me think. Could it possibly have something to do with the fact he had to have a brain scan because you dropped him on his head?"

"I keep telling you – it was an accident. And anyway, he was already unconscious."

"All the more reason to be careful then." She surveyed him carefully. "And it was no trouble at all to go to all the bother of getting you these clothes. Don't feel you have to mention it."

"Don't worry – just remember Callen's paying for our honeymoon at Sea World," Deeks reminded her. It hadn't quite sunk in that while Kensi had done the actual purchasing, it was his bank balance that had taken the hit.

"We took you to Sea World when you were a child," Jack reminisced. "You fell in love with the manatees and wanted one for a Christmas present. You kept insisting we could keep it in the pool."

"Don't even think about it," Kensi advised him. "Santa isn't that generous. Don't you know there's a recession on?"


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter Forty two: you make loving fun**

_Shock alert._

_You have been warned. _

_Proceed at your own risk._

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><p>"How come I don't hurt any less then?" Marty asked, with the sort of warped logic they had all come to expect from him. "Okay, seeing as no-one can answer that one, can we just make it a condition of the next op we go out on, that I'm not the one who ends up in hospital – again?"<p>

"Gladly," Kensi assured him. "Because one more time and I swear I'm going to start going grey."

Sam looked at his watch. "You want to start getting ready any time soon, Deeks? Because if you don't get a move on PDQ we're going to be late."

"You might be into exhibitionism Sam, but I'm not. You want me to get changed – then get out of my room."

"Exactly what are we going to be late for?" Callen asked suspiciously, but everyone was too busy pushing one another out of the door to answer him.

"You can take that chirpy look off your face now," Kensi said, closing the blinds over the window that led into the interior hall corridor. "Because you might be able to fool some of the people, some of the time, but I know you better than that."

"I pretty much ache all over," he confessed, pulling off the hospital gown.

"Smacking down onto a tiled floor from a great height tends to do that. You want to put your arms up and we'll try to get you dressed?" Despite herself, Kensi couldn't help exclaiming in horror when she saw the mass of bruises that covered him back. "They are sure you haven't broken any ribs?" She ran her fingers tenderly over his torso, noting how he flinched despite the lightness of her touch.

"Just bruising, they said." Marty winced as she eased the shirt on as gently as possible. "Great shirt, by the way."

Kensi smiled, having walked what seemed like the length of Edinburgh to find the perfect plaid shirt. "I thought you'd like it. And I got you combat trousers, so they'd be loose." She looked at the long dressing that covered the length of his thigh. "How many stitches did they put in there?"

"I didn't ask. Too many, judging from the way it feels." Marty eased himself gingerly off the bed and winced as his feet hit the floor. "Next time I'm about to run into a burning building, remind me to put my shoes on first, will you?"

"Sure, that'll be my first priority." She looked at him standing there, half-dressed and still wonderfully, gloriously alive, the golden medal hanging around his neck slightly tarnished from the flames. "And don't even think of taking that off," she said, pointing. "In fact, get the chain soldered shut."

"Sounds about right." Marty tried to bend over, but the muscles in his back protested strongly. "Err, you couldn't help me on with my pants, could you?"

"That's the best offer I've had all day. Possibly all week."

"I try to please." He sat down on the bed as she guided first one foot and then the other in the legs of the trousers, exclaiming in horror at the reddened skin and dropping a kiss onto each toe. "I could get used to this, you know."

"Don't even think about making a habit of it. This is strictly a one-off. Okay, you can stand up now."

"I feel like a little kid." Although there was something strangely erotic about being dressed by Kensi.

Kensi grinned wickedly as she pulled the combats up around his waist. "Oh no, you don't. Believe me, you don't feel anything like a little boy. Quite the reverse."

"You really have no shame at all, do you? Molesting a poor, injured man and taking shameless advantage of him. And in a hospital, no less." Marty put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. "And you've not even offered to kiss it better."

"You've got to have something to look forward to when we get back." Kensi reached up and ran her hands through his hair and then froze in horror. "Oh my God – Marty – what the hell has happened to your hair?"

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><p><em>Okay – I have now officially gone where no other fanfic writer has dared to tread. I've maimed the hair. I may have to change my name and leave the country under an assumed name.<em>


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter Forty three: you make loving fun part II**

"My hair?" He looked at her blankly. "What are you talking about?"

"This!" Kensi held out her hand. "Look!" Lying in the palm of her hand was a cluster of short, slightly frazzled gold hairs.

"What did you do?" Marty asked accusingly.

"Me? Nothing at all." Kensi reached out to run her finger through his hair again, but he dodged to the side, ducking his head out of reach.

"No way. Once was more than enough." Carefully, he ran the fingers of one hand through his hair and a shower of small golden fragments floated down to the floor. "Shit." Marty looked at the singed remnants that remained in his hand. "That fucking fire's burnt my hair." He sounded mortally offended.

"It's probably not that bad," Kensi said in what she hoped was a soothing tone of voice, watching as he ruffled his hair and then shook his head for good measure. "Just a bit shorter than we're used to."

"Not as short as Callen's?"

"Nowhere near as short. And it'll grow back. We can get it cut properly tomorrow."

"I know that. I might be blond, but I'm not entirely dumb." He looked at her despairing. "It's going to curl, you know. Next time I wash it, there'll be this whole mass of curls. Why do you think I keep it long?" He'd carefully hidden all his baby photographs, which depicted him sporting a full head of ringlets, looking like Shirley Temple's younger brother. Half the time it was difficult to tell if he was a boy or a girl. If Callen ever caught sight of these, he was dead meat for sure.

"It looks cute," Kensi soothed. "Kind of boyish." She'd always thought he'd kept his hair long to cover his ears, which stuck out slightly.

"That's not exactly the look I'm going for. We don't get a whole lot of ops that require me to go undercover as a high school senior, do we?"

An incorrigible smile crept across her face. "No, but it does arouse my inner cougar."

"Really?" Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as Marty thought. "You don't happen to have a cheerleader's outfit back at your Mom's?" There was a decidedly hopeful note in his voice.

"Me? A cheerleader? You have to be joking. I had two left feet in those days. I was a Girl Scout, if that helps."

"Okay. That could work. Did you get many badges?"

"Are you kidding? You know how competitive I am."

"You got the whole lot, didn't you?"

"Every damn one. Any way I could. Mom still has them all."

"Along with the uniform?" Finally he'd discovered something about Allison Blye that he liked. Marty grabbed his crutches and hobbled slowly towards the door. "I'll give you fair warning though – the first person who says anything – and I mean ANYTHING – about my hair gets it. Tip of the crutch, straight onto their foot."

"Even Hetty?"

"Especially Hetty. You'll note her hair is just peachy."

This seemed sneaky, even by Marty's standards. "You've been on crutches before, haven't you?" Kensi remembered Jack's tales about Marty's accident-prone childhood.

"Once or twice. Maybe three times," he admitted. "Picked up a few tricks along the way, mainly for self-preservation. It's amazing how many people think they can just try to barge past you and nearly send you flying. That's when I discovered that trick with the foot. It really makes them think twice about coming anywhere near you. And I also discovered how great it is for developing your pectorals."

Kensi sniggered. "Maybe we should tell Nate? He's always trying to get some muscle tone in that lanky body of his. This could be the ideal opportunity."

"You are seriously evil, Kensi Blye. Did anyone ever tell you that? What did Nate do to deserve that?"

"Apart from trying to psycho-analyse me? Well, he kept asking me out, and one time when we all ended up at a club, and he insisted on making me do the Electric Slide. Is that reason enough for you?" Kensi cringed at the memory. She'd enver been able to go back to the club after that.

"That'll do it every time. Did Callen and Sam ever let you live it down?"

"After a couple of weeks. And then I found out they'd managed to get hold of the security tapes and downloaded the whole thing onto YouTube. And sent links to everyone we knew. Actually, I never did manage to repay them for that, come to think about it."

"There's still time. Okay, let's get the ritual humiliation over with." Leaning his weight on the crutches, Marty pulled open the door and went out into the hall.

"Cool new hairdo, Deeks. Very… youthful. And curly." Callen probably could have continued, but a sudden pain in his foot distracted him. "Careful there, Deeks. You could do some serious damage with those crutches." He was pretty sure he'd have a perfectly round bruise on his foot by the time he got back to the townhouse. Already it was throbbing like mad.

"Sorry, G. Still getting used to them. Maybe you'd better stay out of my way?" Despite the innocent expression on his face, nobody was fooled for an instant. "We'd better get going. We don't want to be late."

"Why do I get the feeling there's something going on that nobody is telling me about?" Callen asked suspiciously.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter Forty four: final encounter**

_All good things must come to an end – so here we are…_

_Hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it._

_So many, many thanks to everyone who has been following this latest installment in my Kensi/Deeks universe - and to everyone who has added story alerts, favourite story and author and most especially to all those who have reviewed._

* * *

><p>"Got a guilty conscience?" Sam asked him.<p>

"Why would I? But something is up. I might be half-blind but I'm not half-witted."

"That's a matter of opinion."

Hetty cleared her throat audibly, not wanting this to descend into petty bickering. Not in public, at any rate. "There is the small matter of EJ managing to evade the best efforts of the Lothian and Borders Police Force. I believe they have issued an all-points order, but so far she has proved rather enigmatic."

"I'm not surprised, seeing as how she's added arson and attempted murder to duplicity and possible treason." Callen had bitten the bait she had dangled so temptingly before his nose. Hetty liked to make sure her plans unfolded the way she had planned them

"You can't charge someone with being duplicitous. That's more of a character trait than an actual crime."

"Stop pretending to be a lawyer, Deeks."

"I am a lawyer. Got the degree and everything. I just don't practice."

Callen shook his head. "Same difference. One of these days, you're going to have to make your mind up and decide exactly who you are: lawyer, detective, liaison, NCIS agent."

"Beach bum?" Sam added helpfully. "Once his hair grows back, that is." Luckily for him, he was too far away for Marty to impale him with the tip of his crutch.

"Majority shareholder of Brandel Holdings?" Jack suggested _sotto voce_.

"Quit trying to pigeon-hole me, will you?" Marty found he was struggling to keep up with the pace they were setting. He'd forgotten how exhausting using crutches was. And his leg was aching as if he'd been kicked by a mule. "And what about EJ anyway – do you reckon she was acting on her own?"

"That is indeed the question, Mr Deeks. Well spotted. We'd be as well to assume that EJ was acting under orders and has some form of back-up until it can be proven otherwise."

"Proven?" Sam screwed up his nose.

"Past tense of "to prove", Mr Hannah." Sometimes Hetty wondered how the man had managed to graduate from high school. She'd had a hell of a job trying to persuade him that the "liaison" was a noun, derived from the verb and that the present participle was "liaising". For a man who was fluent in Arabic, he could be remarkably dense when it came to his own native tongue.

"The Scots have a "not proven" verdict," Marty mused. "Generally when they reckon they've got the right guy, but they just don't have enough evidence to pin it on him. "Not guilty and don't do it again" is how my jurisprudence professor used to describe it." Aware of the sudden silence, he shrugged, which was no mean feat, given the crutches. "I'm only saying."

Callen decided to give him a break. It was almost pertinent, after all. "That sounds like exactly the sort of verdict EJ would manage to wangle knowing her. And I guess she would have to stand trial here, after all. They've got her details at the airports and ports, I suppose?"

"Are you trying to teach me my job, Mr Callen?" The last 24 hours had been particularly trying and Hetty's patience was stretched to breaking point.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied smoothly, sensing he'd just stepped over the abyss and was clinging on by his finger tips.

"Make sure it stays that way." She strode out of the hospital, dignity and indignation oozing from every pore.

"Hetty's booked us rooms in the Caledonian Hotel. We'll catch up soon, okay?" Jack patted his son on the shoulder. "You take care now." Kensi instantly recognised his wistful expression, as she'd seen its duplicate many times on Marty's face.

_Don't screw this up. Please. Just give him a chance. Give yourself a chance. You both deserve something good, after all that's happened._

"I'll call you tonight, Dad." It had been a shock to wake up and discover his father slumped in a chair at the side of his bed, but it had also been reassuring, in a strange sort of way. Marty realised that while they'd lost too many years, they could still have a future of some sorts. Exactly what that would be was still pretty nebulous, but he did know how he'd felt thinking his father might die in the fire.

"And I'll take care of him. Make sure he doesn't try to do too much," Kensi added. Jack grinned at her and followed in Hetty's wake with a wave, turning the collar of his coat up against the light rain that was starting to spatter down.

"Spoilsport." Marty eased himself carefully into the back of the car, while Kensi got in from the other side. His leg was throbbing like merry hell now. The minute they got back, he'd pop a couple of the pain pills the hospital had given him, and maybe have a whisky to help them act a little faster.

"I only said I wouldn't let you do too much. I didn't say anything about what I may or may not be doing to you, did I? As in "your wish is my command", perhaps?" Kensi looked at him carefully, suddenly seeing the lines of pain on his face. "Or we could just lie in bed and you could hold me, very tightly?" she said in a whisper. Because they only thing that really mattered was that they were together. All the rest could wait.

Sam turned around and glared at them. "You want to save that until you're alone? With the door firmly shut?"

"Jealous, Sam?"

"You bet." But Sam's heart wasn't in it. He'd been hugging a secret to himself for the past few days now. His eyes sparkled as he thought of Denise and the holiday they were planning. Just the two of them – a second honeymoon. Because very soon, they were going to be really busy. The last night in LA, before he'd left for Scotland, Denise had confided that she was pretty sure she was pregnant. They'd been talking about having another baby for months and now it seemed like he was going to be a father again. Sam couldn't wait to get back to LA and see her and Crosby and to start planning for the future. Callen and Deeks were stuck here for a couple of weeks, but there was no reason why he couldn't go back ahead of them. On the very first flight he could get.

Callen sat in the passenger seat, staring morosely ahead, knowing this latest setback with his eye meant he was stuck in this strange country, where people spoke what sounded like English, but clearly wasn't, where it was only dark for about four hours a night and where it seemed to rain each and every day. And where he was on the other side of the world from Nico. Had it only been a couple of days since they'd spoken, since he'd last held her in his arms? Because it seemed like longer. It seemed like an eternity. And he was physically aching for her. But he was stuck here, courtesy of that first-class bitch, EJ Barrett, who made a habit of fucking up his life every time they met. God only knew where she was, who she was with or what she was doing. He wouldn't put it past her to have some personal vendetta against him and his team.

Just to put the cap on his black mood, it was starting to rain in earnest now, big, fat drops were splattering off the windscreen and the sky was turning an ominous shade of dark grey. "It's supposed to be summer," Callen muttered, as Sam turned down to drive down a steep street, and the car bumped its way over cobblestones that looked slick and dangerous.

"It's only a shower. It'll be over soon," Kensi said from behind him, sounding incredibly upbeat, even by her standards. Callen could only suppose her over-active imagination was already running through the various scenarios she was going to tempt Deeks with once they were finally alone. Some guys had all the luck. They both had screwed-up childhoods, and had been saved by the _Catena_, but somehow Deeks ended up with a few million dollars in his back pocket along with a father who was alive and who clearly adored him. And on top of all that, he had Kensi. Not that Callen wanted Kensi, although there had been a time when he wouldn't have kicked her out of bed on a dark night, but she was here and Nico wasn't. Life was officially crap.

"Okay – we're nearly there. Try and find us a parking place, will you Callen?" Sam had finally got them safely through the convoluted traffic systems in the centre of town and, much to his credit, hadn't knocked down a single tourist as they strode blithely into the path of oncoming traffic, intent on peering up at the Castle, or pointing out one of the many pipers that seemed to inhabit every street corner.

Callen started looking for an empty spot as the y cruised along the street. "Stop. Stop right here, Sam."

The smoke must have done more damage to his eyes than he thought, because Callen could have sworn that the woman walking along the pavement was familiar. He yanked open the car door and started running after her, thinking he must be dreaming, and yet certain he'd know that ass anywhere, especially the way it sashayed along. He pounded along the street after her and reached out, just as Nico turned around and held her arms open wide.

"Hetty's quite the romantic, isn't she?" Kensi said fondly, watching as Callen pulled Nico into a kiss that seemed to go on forever.

"She has her moments. You think they're going to do that all day?"

"Probably." Sam put two fingers into his mouth and gave a piercing whistle. "Hey – there's laws against kissing in a built-up area. And I've got a young child with me." He pointed to the back seat of the car.

"Very funny." Marty felt like sticking his tongue out, only that would kind of prove Sam's point. "I knew he wouldn't be able to resist making some sort of crack."

Callen ignored them. All of a sudden, he didn't care if EJ had plans to take over the whole world. He didn't even care that it was pouring with rain and he was getting soaked to the skin, because he was with the woman he loved in the most wonderful, magical, downright beautiful city in the world.

**THE END**

To be continued

in

_**Never Going Back Again**_


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